


Drapetomania

by ToPerceiveIsToBePerceptive



Series: Still Running [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Adoribull - Freeform, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Carrier Pigeons, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, Heroic Carrier Pigeons, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, Lynch mob, M/M, Mild Language, Misgendering, Non-Sexual Bondage, Oral Sex, Pre-Game(s), Racism, References to PTSD, References to dehumanisation, Self-Harm, Sexual Tension, Slavery, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Violence, references to murder, references to rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 37
Words: 75,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4497441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToPerceiveIsToBePerceptive/pseuds/ToPerceiveIsToBePerceptive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-Game AU. Dorian is captured by slavers while trying to escape Tevinter. He's not the only one. Based very VERY loosely on the basic concept of "The Defiant Ones". Now with editing by the delightful embyrr922!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Servani

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone. I've been tinkering with this for a while now and while I've got a bit of story stockpiled, it's not finished yet. First chapter is short but the other chapters I have are a better length. This is going to play fast and loose with both Dorian and Bull's established canon, not because I want to but because I can't find good, detailed pre-game character information sources. I'll do my best but time-lines will be all over the shop. I'm sorry about that. If anyone could direct me to some good online sources that would be mighty appreciated. 
> 
> Anyway, all you need to know is that it's been roughly three months since Dorian's escape from his family home in Qarinus.
> 
> And action!
> 
> Edit: Hello everyone! If you are reading this after 10/06/2016, you may notice some differences. In particular, you may notice how my spelling and grammar has greatly improved. Well, my dear friends, that is all a smokescreen. You see, the wonderful embyrr922 has spent the last three months editing this fic for me and her talents and skills have improved the fic greatly. So everyone, a big round of applause embyrr922 for her tremendous hard work.

The slavers had taken Dorian while he slept. If he had been awake, with his staff in his hands, none of them would have lived.

‘Watch out, Septima. This one’s less pampered than he looks.’ Said the slaver as he forced Dorian to his knees before his commander. ‘Broke a couple of Naevus’ ribs. And Maxima is going to have a few more gaps in her teeth from now on.’

‘Oh dear.’ The leader pouted, all mock sympathy. ‘And Maxima is famous across Thedas for her radiant beauty.’ The middle-aged woman clutched Dorian’s jaw and forced his head upward to meet her gaze. His fists reflexively clenched in the binds that forced his arms behind his back. Septima’s dark eyes scrutinised Dorian’s face; at least, scrutinised the part that wasn’t obscured by the cloth gag. He dissected her just as carefully. She was tall, her excessive gauntness making her look taller. In the firelight, her shorn, silver hair looked like frost or shattered glass. Her crooked nose was skewed to the right, her eyes deep and sunken in their sockets. Dorian seared her face into his memory.

When the time came for retribution, Dorian wanted to remember who to come looking for.

‘This one is pretty, isn’t he?’ She purred, tapping one finger pensively against Dorian’s jaw. ‘He’ll certainly be worth the trouble once we get to Minrathous. What do you think, Varius? Five hundred gold? Five hundred and fifty?’

‘If his face was the end of the story, sure, but you don’t know the best of it.’ Varius the weaselly and weak-bearded smirked. Septima looked up and tilted her head.

‘Oh? Do you have a surprise for me?’ Her tongue poked the corner of her mouth. ‘Did Wintersend come early?’

Varius just laughed, turning and rummaging through the pile of Dorian’s belongings that he had confiscated. Dorian’s stomach clenched. The amulet. If they had found it, it was only a matter of time until they worked out that he was a member of House Pavus. If these slavers ransomed him back to his father...

_‘Dorian, stop struggling!’ His father’s voice was entirely transmuted. Same tone, same inflections, but full of a strange mixture of desperation and malice. Dorian writhed and twisted in the grip of two slaves he’d known since he was a child. One was silently weeping._

_‘Father, don’t do this.’ His own voice was ragged and pleading. ‘The resort of the weak mind. You’ve always said…’_

_Hayward moved towards his son, his right hand dripping in blood. It looked like a scarlet, liquid glove. ‘I’m doing this for you, Dorian. Remember that. I’m going this for you.’_

_Dorian felt a scream start to rip up into his throat as that bloody hand reached up, intent on smothering his sight…_

From under Dorian’s clothes and sleeping kit, Varius pulled out Dorian’s staff. ‘Tadaa!’

Septima giggled like a naughty child. She looked back at Dorian and squeezed his face tighter. ‘A looker and a mage. Aren’t you just full of surprises?’

Dorian jerked his face out of her grip and snarled at her through his gag. The only show of rebellion he could make from his position. Septima just sneered down her broken nose at him.

‘Put him in the empty wagon. I don’t want the other slaves roughing him up. Damaged goods don’t sell well in Minrathous.’

Dorian was hauled to his feet, still glaring at the woman with all his might. Septima blew him a kiss.

‘Sleep well, pretty boy.’


	2. Ataas shokra

Over the next two days, Dorian watched the countryside drift by through the bars of his cage. He had been heading toward the Tevinter boarder for the last three weeks. Now, to his ever growing dread, he was being hauled to the capital in chains. The only way it could have been worse was if the slavers dropped him back on his parents' doorstep in Qarinus. They still might, if they found his birthright and worked out its significance.

Dorian had been watching his captors' movements, trying to spot any weakness he might use to his advantage. So far, no such luck. Of course the thugs that captured him couldn’t just be bandits who decided to try their hand at the slave trade. Oh no. He was lucky enough to be in the hands of professionals! What joy!

The relentless sun was finally starting to make its way below the horizon when the convoy of wagons ground to a halt. Dorian craned his neck to see what was going on, but the shackles they had put him in didn’t allow much movement. Beside his cart, a one-armed woman and a sallow-skinned man came to a stop.

‘What’s the holdup?’ The man sounded like toad that had gargled gravel. Dorian realised with rage that he was wearing a set of Dorian’s robes.

‘Septima said something about a band of mercenaries in the area.’ The woman replied. ‘I don’t know what the deal is. I think there have been mutterings of one crew attacking slave caravans and freeing the merchandise. In exchange for their coin afterwards, of course. She’s just being cautious.’

‘She’s losing us time, is what she’s doing. At this rate two of those knife-ears will be dead by the time we reach Minrathous. Maybe even three.’

‘If you want to bitch to Septima about it, you go right ahead.’ The one armed woman twirled a spear in her hand. ‘But remember what happened to Aquila? I’ve seen plenty of men sliced in half in my time, but few lengthways.’

The man sneered but didn’t continue to complain. His eyes darted about like he was worried someone had heard him questioning Septima’s authority.

‘C’mon Dec.’ He spat on the ground, somehow signalling a permanent change of topic. ‘We may as well give this filthy lot their rations while we’re waiting around. No sense in stopping again later down the road.’

Dec sniffed. ‘Gonna do the Spellbind first, Ennius?’ She gave Dorian a dirty look, which he returned in kind.

‘Why not?’ The slaver jostled an ill-fitting buckle on his robe. Well, Dorian’s robe. ‘Let’s get it over with. I’ll get in, you hold him.’

Dec nodded, setting her spear down beside the cart. Dorian tried to turn to see what the two were doing, but his shackles made the task virtually impossible. His ankles were chained together, his legs stretched out straight in front of him. His wrists were cuffed in front of him in a similar fashion. A longer, thicker chain ran up from his ankles, through his wrist restraints, and attached to iron collar that circled his neck. If he wasn’t careful, he would risk choking himself every time he moved his hands or feet. The collar had magic-blocking runes carved into it as well. This, Dorian could have… tolerated wasn’t the right word. Endured. He would have endured those indignities. But the slavers had also forced across his mouth a stiff, leather muzzle, fastened with elaborate buckles. It completely covered the lower part of his face, locking his jaw in place.

These people obviously had dealt with mages many times before.

Dec snaked her single arm through the bars. She brought a thin silver knife between Dorian’s chin and the collar. He could feel the blade scrape against his neck when he swallowed.

Dec nodded to Ennius. He nodded back, unlocked the cage, and crawled inside with Dorian. He was carrying a canteen of water. The slaver set it aside and began to undo the buckles on Dorian’s muzzle.

‘Not a word, mage. You hear? Not a sound. If you even think of throwing a spell my way, Dec will paint this wagon with your blood. Clear?’

The muzzle peeled away from Dorian’s mouth for a split second. He barely had enough time to lick his lips before the canteen was roughly forced against them. Dorian felt Ennius grab a handful of his hair, forcing his head back so he would swallow.

The water that filled his parched mouth was cool and refreshing. But it wasn’t right. Dorian could taste a hint of something else just lingering beneath the surface.

His mind swam for a bit, in amongst confusion and familiarity. Then he remembered the taste.

Deathroot and blood lotus.

They were trying to drug him.

Dorian jerked his head back, making Ennius lose his grip on both Dorian and the canteen. Dorian saw that this may be his chance, his only chance, at any show of defiance.

He took it.

He spat the water straight into the slaver’s eye.

Ennius’ face transformed from its typical sickly yellow to a deep, violent purple. Dorian could see his hands shake with fury. Somewhere behind his ear, Dec gasped.

‘Well.’ Dorian’s smile was bright and chipper. ‘It wasn’t a spell.’

Ennius flung himself at Dorian, fist raised. It was going to hit and shatter and break whatever part of Dorian’s face it collided with first.

‘Ennius, no!’ Dec yelled. ‘Septima will butcher you! You know she will.’

Ennius’ hand hovered in mid-flight as he weighed up future punishments against present satisfaction. The hand uncurled, grabbed onto the muzzle and forced it back over Dorian’s face.

‘You're lucky Septima has taken a shine to you, pretty boy.’ He snarled as he strapped up the buckles far tighter than they needed to be. When he finished, he grabbed onto Dorian’s jaw and forced the mage’s face inches from his own. ‘And we both know that kind of luck is no luck at all.’

Ennius shoved Dorian’s face away and climbed out of the wagon. As he bolted the cage behind himself, the slaver smirked.

‘Hope you enjoy your day without water, Spellbind.’

Dorian felt the knife slither away from his throat.

‘I got to admit, mage,’ Dec whispered behind him, ‘That was funny as hell.’

Dorian could hear two sets of footsteps retreat into the dark. Then nothing.

A day without water. Dorian knew he could go for that long. When they'd put him in solitary at school, he'd gone for longer without basic necessities. But he knew that the day after tomorrow would be his limit. After that…

A roar broke the twilight apart. Dorian thought later that it was the first real roar he’d ever experienced. It was primal. Guttural. It was the noise a monster makes. Dorian’s head turned and he stared at the direction the chaos. Both of the slavers who had tried to give him water were now running.

Over the slight crest of a hill, silhouetted by the setting sun, came a Qunari.

A huge, massive, I-didn’t-know-someone-could-be-that-immense Qunari.

At least thirteen slavers were dragging him along. Well, attempting to. The ox-man was not going down without a fight. Both his gigantic horns had been lassoed, and his entire body was criss-crossed with thick ropes. Dorian guessed they had to be enchanted or something. There was no way they wouldn’t snap like twine otherwise. Dorian could see the blood pouring off the creature. One of his forearms looked like it had been hacked with an axe. There was a particularly nasty gash over his… where his eye should have been. Dorian couldn’t tell if he had lost the eye during this skirmish or long before. The Qunari’s body, was covered in a cross-hatching of scars, clear even from this distance. He was panting in ragged breaths, and he seemed to sway with every step they forced him to take. The slavers who weren't holding ropes struck at him with whips and the hilts of their weapons. Their hunting dogs snarled and snapped at the Qunari's calves.

And yet he was still fighting.

That terrified Dorian twice over. Firstly, a Qunari warrior was a terrifying sight for a Tevinter mage, particularly one who had never seen the enemy in the flesh before. Secondly, he was more than a little turned on. What was appealing about a beaten and bleeding Qunari who refused to recognise when to quit? Dorian didn’t know, and he was going to have to have a stern word with his subconscious at some point in the future.

The slavers all tugged their ropes downward in unison, and the Qunari fell to his knees. While slavers were struggling to shackle the Qunari, someone was yelling.

‘That thing killed Maxima!’ Screamed Varius, shaking his sword in the Qunari’s direction. ‘Just snapped her neck, like it was nothing! Hadrian and Malius are going to be lucky if they live through the night! Porcia’s lost one of her eyes, if not both!’ Varius leaned within inches of the Qunari’s face. Given the Qunari had slaughtered a fair few of his comrades, getting closer to it didn’t seem to be a wise move. ‘I swear if she ends up blind, so will you.’

‘What about the rest of them?’ Septima bellowed. ‘There was whole company of mercenaries! Are you telling me they all escaped?’

‘All except for this… thing.’ Varius snarled. ‘It held the ground while the others buggered off. We’ve got three scout groups combing the area, but we couldn't follow them. If we hadn’t taken this monster down, it would have killed us all!’

Dorian felt a jolt run through him as the Qunari laughed.

‘Good luck seeing those scouts again.’ The creature’s voice was like a thunderstorm.

Varius struck the Qunari with the hilt of his sword. The creature smiled a red smile and spat blood onto the dirt.

‘Varius, enough! We need him.’ Septima locked her dark eyes onto her newest captive. ‘Where is your meeting point? I know your commanding officer would have told you to head to a certain location if you got separated from your band. Tell me. Now!’

‘I am the commanding officer.’ The Qunari said. ‘And I ain’t telling you jack shit about where my boys are.’

‘Really?’ Septima raised her eyebrows ‘An ox-man in charge of a mercenary crew? Unlikely. Do your kind have the brain-power to run such an operation?’

The Qunari shrugged and it was like a mountain range shifting.

‘I don’t care what you think, sweetheart. In a day’s time you’ll be deader than Andraste’s Mabari.’ He leaned a fraction closer to Septima and grinned. ‘I promise you that.’

Septima narrowed her eyes at the threat. She chose to look at her second-in-command rather than answer. ‘Get him in a cart. We’ll camp here for the night.’ Varius’ mouth fell open.

‘You’ve gone mad Septima! We need to kill this fucking Qunari, now. He’s slaughtered our own like they were pigs. I want his head on a pike!’

‘Do you know how rare it is to take a Qunari alive?’ Septima said. ‘We’ll get a fortune of him alone in Minrathous! All the magisters will be scrabbling over themselves for the chance to own him! They'll want to show him off in chains at the dinner parties. Have him pull their carts. He's a one man fortune.'

‘And you think that’s worth the risk? If his men come looking for him…’

‘Then we’ll snatch them up too. Why waste a good lure?’

Dorian could see the Qunari's jaw clench at Septima's words. He had been completely still while Varius had spoken of blinding him or sticking his head on a pike. But when Septima talked about using him as bait, something like fear flickered across the Qunari’s expression. The slavers weren’t as observant as Dorian. They didn't notice.

‘Septima, I am telling you, this thing is not worth--’

‘You’re telling me?’ Septima turned, teeth bared. An instinctual thought had been lurking in the shadows of Dorian’s mind for the past two days. It chose that moment to step into the light. Septima was insane. Cool, calculating, and relentless, yes. All the things a good leader needed to be. But those traits were just a thin veneer to cover her absolute lunacy. And that veneer was beginning to crack.

Septima took a deliberate step towards her second-in-command. He didn’t back away, but a sheen of sweat had broken out over his upper lip. She strolled around Varius while he stood stock still. ‘Why, I do apologise, your excellency. I was unaware that I needed to ask your leave before making decisions.’

‘Septima…’

There was a glint of orange sunlight on steel and Varius’ hand shot to his face. When he brought it down to look at it, a streak of blood was smeared along his palm. A long thin gash had appeared on his cheek. Septima put a long, curved knife back into a sheath on her belt. She whispered her next words, but the whole camp was so silent even Dorian heard them perfectly.

‘Next time you speak out of turn, this knife will cut out your tongue.’

Septima turned her back on Varius and surveyed the rest of her crew. They all were motionless.

‘It’s so strange. I have this distinct memory that I ordered you all to shove this Qunari into one of the cages…’

All the slavers lurched into life and started dragging the now chained Qunari forward. A realisation hit Dorian. The two other prison wagons were already full with other slaves—a small Dalish clan, and a few unfortunate human travellers. The only cart where there would be room to fit the Qunari was…

Oh dear.

The cage door on his wagon was unlocked and three of the slavers crawled inside. They pulled the Qunari in by the horns while the others pushed his legs over the edge. As soon as their prisoner’s body was in, the slavers scrabbled out, like rabbits. One of the slavers—the man Dorian had spat his water at—crossed his arms and smirked.

‘Hope you like your new friend, pretty boy.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Bull! Glad you could join us.  
> ...  
> I am a despicable human being.


	3. Avanna

The morning passed in silence. Dorian was relieved. The Qunari took up a third of the wagon all by himself, but beyond that he didn’t affect Dorian one way or another. Being locked in a cage with a Qunari wasn't ideal, but there was no way it could make the situation worse. The creature wasn't in a talkative mood, and Dorian was in no position to start a conversation. Occasionally, he would see his travelling companion stealing glances in his direction. But that wasn’t surprising. It wasn't as though there was much else to look at. They had been rolling past fields of crops for hours. There was nothing but wheat stretching out to the horizon. The sky was blinding and immense and oppressive above those fields. Dorian had not seen a single person pass them on the road. Lucky for them.

So the two men sat. A Tevinter and a Qunari, side by side, their backs against the bars of the cage and making a point not to notice each other.

The only thing the Qunari did that Dorian couldn’t stand was fiddle with his bandage. A slaver, early that morning, had bandaged the injuries on the Qunari’s forearm. Unfortunately, in his haste to get out of the cage and away from the one-eyed monster, the slaver had done a terrible job. By midday it was already unravelled and loose. The bandage was completely useless, applying no pressure whatsoever to the wound. The gouges still seeped sluggishly. It dripped a steady stream of blood onto the wooden floor. The Qunari had tried to retie the bandage as best he could, but with his wrists shackled together, he could barely reach the bandage he was adjusting. Half the time he ended up unravelling the fabric more than it had been before. It was hardly the beast’s fault, but every time his fingers reached for it, it set Dorian’s teeth on edge. If this continued, the Qunari would bleed himself dry.

Around noon, the Qunari reached for his bandage a fifth time. Dorian shouted in exasperation. The muzzle muffled the sound, but the unarticulated meaning was clear.

For the first time, the Qunari turned and spoke to the man who had been sitting beside him all day.

‘Problem?’

Dorian gave the Qunari the renowned Pavus scowl.

‘Quite the stink-eye you’ve got going there.’ said the Qunari. He had grin like the edge of a razor blade.

Dorian dropped his head to his chest with a sigh for a moment, and then pulled his knees to his chest. This gave his chains enough slack to reach over to the Qunari’s arm and pull off the bandage. The Qunari narrowed his eye at Dorian but allowed him to continue.

Dorian’s hands were still shackled, and his efforts were clumsy, but his binding was better than the slaver’s had been, and certainly better than the Qunari’s. He could feel that one sharp eye on him as he worked. He avoided it. Dorian looped the bandage over the firm, muscular forearm, let it go, reached under the limb and then looped the bandage up over again. Dorian ignored his audience as best he could, focusing on making the bandage as firm as possible. It was already slick with blood, and stained his hands red, but it was better than nothing. Dorian tucked the tail of the bandage into its own folds and finally met the infernal Qunari's gaze.

‘Thanks,’ said the Qunari. He sounded more confused than anything else.

Dorian didn’t give any sign he'd heard, although he had. Instead he just returned to his original position. Back against the bars, legs stretched out before him, face cast down. What else was there to do?

He listened to the grind of the wheels and the voices of the slavers as they talked to one another, their words indistinct. In one of the other wagons the Dalish clan seemed to be singing a low, mournful song. Two of the hunting dogs snarled and barked at each other as they walked beside Dorian’s wagon.

Suddenly, Dorian felt fingers touching the side of his head. He jumped at the contact, then whipped his face around and glared. The Qunari raised his hands, his fingers spread open in a show of surrender.

‘Whoa. Sorry. Just trying to return the favour.’

Dorian lifted his chin, confused.

The Qunari pointed at the muzzle. ‘You do want that thing off your face, don’t you?’

Dorian’s eyebrows furrowed. His eyes darted across the Qunari’s face, searching for any sign that he should mistrust him. Then, very slowly, he turned his face to allow the beast access to the clasps on the muzzle. Out of the corner of his eye, Dorian could see the giant grey hands working. The brute was actually putting in a surprising amount of effort to be delicate. It was so strange. After days of rough treatment, of being pushed and shoved and manhandled, this Qunari was taking pains to be gentle with him. Dorian felt the leather fall away from his mouth. He couldn’t have stopped the contented sigh that escaped him if he'd tried.

The Qunari leant back. ‘Whoa.’

‘What?’ Dorian’s voice was raspy from disuse.

‘Nothing. Blindsided by the moustache, that’s all.’

Dorian managed a brief smile at this before taking a moment to work his jaw on its hinge. The whole lower half of his face felt like it had been rusted shut. ‘You have my gratitude, Qunari.’

‘The Iron Bull.’

Dorian looked up. ‘What?’

‘That’s my name. At least that’s what I call myself. The Iron Bull, leader of the Bull’s Chargers.’

Dorian’s eyes flicked to the Iron Bull’s horns for a second, and then back down. ‘Sensible choice.’

‘You have a name, 'Vint?’

Dorian bristled at the “’Vint”, but he was fairly sure the Iron Bull didn’t mean to offend him. And if he did, there wasn’t exactly anything Dorian could do about it, was there?

‘Dorian.’ He replied, and it felt strange to leave “scion of House Pavus” off the end. ‘My name is Dorian.’

‘What did you do to piss this lot off, then?’

Dorian raised an eyebrow. ‘They're slavers, Iron Bull. Typically one doesn’t need to do anything to “piss them off”. They--’

‘I meant the gag.’ The Iron Bull said. ‘I hacked a few of them into small pieces, and I didn’t get one. You must be a charmer.’

‘It had less to do with my manners and more to do with my magical abilities, I believe.’

The Iron Bull’s eye widened a fraction. ‘You’re a mage?’

‘Yes, indeed I am.’ Dorian wanted to laugh at the Iron Bull's discomfort. The idea of anyone of the Bull's stature and demeanour being spooked by someone half his size was more than a little amusing. However, they were going to be spending a lot of time together. Dorian thought it would be better to defuse any tension now. ‘A staff-less mage, bound and collared. Isn’t that how the Qunari prefer our kind?’

The Iron Bull grinned. ‘I’d buy you dinner first.’

Dorian would have been flustered by this comment if the Iron Bull hadn’t scrunched up the right side of his face and made a show of shutting his eye. Dorian squinted at him.

‘What was that?’

‘I just winked at you.’

‘Iron Bull, I hope I don’t offend you when I state the obvious: you are winking on a permanent basis. Deliberately trying to wink is redundant.’

‘It’s dashing.’

‘It’s ridiculous.’

Iron Bull grunted. ‘I could gag you again, you know.’

‘And be forced to endure your own company for the rest of the journey? You wouldn’t last a day.’

The Qunari chuckled and tried to roll his shoulder. In spite of how massive and long the chains were, they still weren’t long enough for someone Bull’s size. They forced Bull’s neck down into an unnatural hunch. Dorian's own neck ached in sympathy. A little way off, the Dalish singing ended when a loud clang of metal on metal rang out. Someone had slammed a sword against the bars of their cage. A slaver’s voice bellowed for the dirty knife-ears to knock it off.

The Iron Bull sniffed. ‘So, how long have you been here, Dorian the mouthy mage?’

‘Three days. Three days too long.’

‘You have any escape plans?’ Iron Bull said this like he was asking Dorian how he planned to spend a vacation.

‘No.’ Dorian let his eyes fall shut. ‘They're too well organised, as far as I can tell. Half-hourly guard checks, always moving in pairs. Oh and they’ve started putting blood lotus and deathroot in the water. That’s a recent development.’

‘Shit.’ The Iron Bull swore, before eyeing Dorian. ‘How come you aren’t a drooling, boneless lump right now?’

‘Let’s just say I am very thirsty.’

Bull nodded. ‘So it'll have to be tonight, then.’

Dorian yawned. ‘Tonight?’

‘The escape. You’re going to be no use to me drugged, and if you can’t go another day without water--’

Dorian’s eyes snapped open. This Iron Bull wasn’t actually thinking--

No he was. He definitely was. The Iron Bull's single eye was sharp like a scalpel. He was already dissecting their surroundings.

Kaffas, this crazy mercenary was going to do something stupid and get them both killed.

‘Wait. No no.’ Dorian stammered. ‘I never agreed-- I thought we were talking hypothetically, not actually--’

'Why talk hypothetically when you can do something useful?' Bull was studying the door of their cage. 'Who has the keys to these cages?'

'All the slavers have one each.' muttered Dorian. 'But it doesn't matter. I don't want any part of some suicide mission.'

'Yeah, right.' Iron Bull scoffed.

Dorian frowned. 'What do you mean by that?'

'No one takes notes about who has keys and how often the guards do their checks for no reason. You've been looking for a chance to get out. Probably since the moment they nabbed you.' Bull smirked. 'And lucky for you, now I'm here and we can make that happen! But I need to know everything you know, so we can make a plan.'

Dorian gaped. 'You're a lunatic. Maker save me, I am locked in a cage with a Qunari lunatic.'

‘Do you want to stay here instead?’ Bull rumbled. ‘Is slavery in Minrathous your ideal career, ‘Vint?’

‘Obviously not. But I also don't plan to end up slaughtered by Septima the Insane Slaver-Driver during a half-baked escape attempt.’

Bull glanced over his shoulder. At the front of the convoy, Septima sat on a steel-grey horse. To Dorian she looked like a barbarian out of one of the stories his tutor would tell him when he was young. The ones that burnt villages to the ground and carried the scalps of their enemies tied to their belts. The ones that kept little Dorian awake at night.

‘Yeah, that woman’s five different kinds of crazy, alright.’ Bull shifted, his chains clinking. ‘That’s a big reason why I want to get as much space between me and her as possible.’

Dorian leant towards Bull a fraction. ‘Look, I’m not against the whole “let’s-get-away-from-the-people-who-have-imprisoned-us-against-our-will” concept. I just don’t think half a day’s planning is going to be enough.’

‘Well unless you can conjure up a way of stopping time, ‘Vint, half a day is all we’ve got. Do you want to waste the little time we have fighting about if escape is possible? Or do you want to help me make it happen?’

Dorian opened his mouth but the Bull cut him off.

‘Would you rather live as a slave or go out fighting?’

_Dorian thrust his feet off the floor and kicked his father square in the chest. Halward stumbled back with the force, tripping and hitting the ground. Dorian planted his feet again, and he jerked one of his arms free from the slave’s grasp. The other, the weeping one, let go of him without a struggle. Dorian flew to the door, blasting the lock apart with a fireball. He could hear his father yelling behind him, but Dorian didn’t turn around, didn’t slow down. All that existed now was his hard, sharp, breaths and the knowledge he could not stop running._

Dorian drew a long breath through his nose. ‘I suppose you have some ideas?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time Bull and Dorian decide to pull a Shawshank. How successful will they be? Tune in to find out.


	4. Revas

By the time Septima called the convoy to a halt, the sun had been down for at least an hour. The evening chill had begun to settle in. The slavers made a fire in the centre of the campground, positioning their personal caravans around it. The slave wagons sat on the outskirts for the encampment, spaced apart so they formed a triangle. Dorian thought it was in case any wild animals ventured near the camp during the night. This way slaves would be the first mauled to death.

It was feeding time for the captives. Dec and Ennius plodded to Bull and Dorian's wagon with all the enthusiasm of a child going to their lessons. As the cage door opened, Ennius glowered at Dorian, like he was a dog-shit on the bottom of his shoe.

‘No silly-buggers today, pretty boy.’ He said as he climbed in, giving Bull as wide a berth as he could. ‘You spit your water on me again, and I’ll break your jaw, no matter what Dec here says.’

‘He spat his water at you?’ Bull’s grin was huge. ‘Now that’s just impolite. Kids these days just aren’t brought up to have the proper respect for their betters.

Dorian shot Bull a dirty look, but he couldn’t bite back. His face was all locked up again. They'd both known Bull had to put the muzzle back on Dorian, otherwise the slavers would know something was amiss. Dorian felt that Bull had taken a little bit too much pleasure in rebinding his mouth. The mercenary had made many unfunny and uncalled-for comments afterwards. He seemed to delight in Dorian’s inability voice the comebacks trapped behind the gag.

‘I’d shut it if I was you, Qunari.’ Dec spat. ‘We’re all looking for a reason to stab you in the gut and call it self-defence.’

She curled her arm through the bars and leant the old, familiar knife against Dorian’s throat. ‘All yours, Ennius.’

Ennius knelt down beside Dorian’s legs, laying the canteen down beside him. Ennius’ bony fingers jabbed at the clasps on the muzzle. As the slaver worked, Dorian caught Iron Bull’s eye. The Qunari gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

The last buckle unclasped. The mouthpiece fell away.

Bull lunged forward, grabbing Dec’s arm. He tugged it back against the bar between them. They both heard the sickening snap. The knife clattered to the floor. Dorian lifted both his legs and swung them up in a hard arch. The heavy shackles smashed into the side of Ennius’ head. The slaver fell like a pile of lead in a sack.

‘Dorian, keys!’ Bull hissed.

Dorian squirmed the other direction and reached through the bars to Dec’s belt. The thing was covered in little pouches, and he had seen her put a key in one of them the first day he had been captured. Ennius groaned behind him. He wouldn’t be out for long.

‘You’ve got her, Bull?’ Dorian asked as he rummaged.

‘Don’t worry.’ Said Bull. ‘She’s armless.’

Dorian found the keys and pulled them through to his side of the bars. He set to work unlocking Bull’s manacles first.

‘”Armless”? Really? How is it, at a time like this, you still have the capacity to make such a terrible pun?’ Dorian hissed. The wrist shackles made a satisfying click and fell away.

‘What can I say?’ Bull said. ‘I’m just talented.’

Dorian, without direction, grabbed Dec’s dark, curly hair. He pulled the woman’s face flush against the bars. Bull let go of her smashed arm, grabbed the key, and set to work on his feet and collar.

‘Where are our weapons?’ snarled Dorian at her while Bull freed himself. She didn’t answer. Dorian slammed her face against the bars again. ’Where?!’

Dec spoke through clenched teeth. ‘The small cart at the back of the convoy. The mule’s pulling it.’

Dorian looked at Bull who’d finally finished pulling off his collar. ‘You heard that?’

‘Got it.’

The sound of laughter broke through the night. Two slavers—Dorian didn’t know their names—were strolling in their direction. They hadn’t spotted what was happening yet, but they would soon. Dorian looked back at Bull, but the Qunari was already leaping out of the cart. He disappeared into the darkness.

A sudden ghastly realisation hit Dorian. The Iron Bull was gone. Gone and had left him still shackled and helpless while he held one of his captors by the hair. Ennius lay beside him, struggling his way back into consciousness. He would be awake any second and then he would beat Dorian to death.

And why should it be any different? Why would the Qunari hold up his end of the bargain? It was far smarter for Bull to make a break for it by himself than to waste time freeing a man who had served his purpose.

Still, Dorian had never felt so stupid in his life.

Out of the blackness came two sharp sounds. One of them sounded like a gasp, another like a muffled thud.

The Iron Bull darted back, dragging two limp bodies under his arms. He flung them into the prisoner cart with Dorian before climbing back in.

‘Thought I’d stop them before they raised the alarm.’ Ennius groaned beside the Bull and Bull swiftly punched him in the face. The strike knocked the slaver out completely. Bull leant down and began unlocking Dorian’s feet. ‘Hopefully it’ll buy us a few minutes.’

‘Oh. Of course…’ was all Dorian could manage. Bull flicked his eyes to Dorian’s expression. A bemused smile spread on Bull’s face.

‘You thought I’d run off, didn’t you? Left you here holding the bag?’

“The bag” growled between yellowing teeth at this comment. Dorian and Bull ignored her.

Bull pulled off Dorian’s collar and the mage rolled his head on his shoulders. ‘Can you blame me? It’s not as though your lot are fond of Tevinter mages.’ Bull laughed.

‘You need to work on your trust issues.’ The last of Dorian’s chains fell away and Bull was out of the cart again. Dorian watched as he rounded the side and grabbed Dec out of Dorian’s grip. Bull dragged her to the back of the cart. Dorian hopped out as Bull shoved her in.

‘Thank you ever so much for your hospitality, but we must be going.’ Dorian said as Bull locked the door on the slavers. Dec huddled over her broken arm.

‘I should have let Ennius smash your face in, Spellbind.’

Dorian shrugged.

‘Probably. But I suspect that if we listed the mistakes you have made over your entire lifetime, we’d be here until day-break.’

Bull tugged on Dorian’s shoulder. ‘Are you going to stand there making snarky comments, 'Vint, or do you want your magic stick back?’

Dorian stopped himself from scolding the Iron Bull for calling a weapon as expertly crafted as his staff a “magic stick”. Instead he chose to follow the Qunari into the dark. The two men slunk their way around the outskirts of the camp as silently as possible. Dorian couldn’t help but admire Bull’s stealth. Considering the mercenary’s size, the fact no one noticed Bull as he snuck from shadow to shadow was a small miracle. They reached the supply wagon at the back of the convoy. An old, tired-looking mule was out front, grazing away on what scant grass she could find. Bull climbed into the back of the wagon and began rummaging.

Behind Dorian, there was a sneeze.

Dorian spun, his eyes frantically searching out the source of the noise. His gaze settled on the group of Dalish elves. All of them were staring at him. Not in judgement, not pleading. Just staring as though they had nothing better to do with their time than watch Dorian and Bull escape. Dorian clenched his fists, furious at his rational mind. It was telling him they didn’t have time to play heroes. That if he got caught freeing the elves, all this sneaking and plotting would have been for nothing. That they would put his head on a pike as an example to the others.

He told his rational mind to piss off.

‘Bull.’ He hissed. ‘The key.’

‘What?’

Dorian couldn’t see Bull’s expression in the dimness, but he saw Bull’s head lift. The Qunari's horns pointed upwards. It reminded Dorian of a dog pricking its ears.

‘The key. You still have it?’

Bull looked towards the cage of Dalish, latching on to Dorian’s intent. Dorian thought for a second Bull was going to tell him to forget about them. The Iron Bull would say that if the elves wanted out, they could work up their own escape plan, and that would be it. But Bull just pulled out the key and shoved it into Dorian’s palm. Dorian tried to step away, but Bull held his hand in a tight grip.

‘Don’t fuck about, big guy. Free them, then head straight for that wheat field, like we planned. The slavers won’t be able to follow us through there in the dark.’

Dorian smirked. ‘Concerned for me? Why, I’m flattered.’

‘I’m not going to come save your arse if you get caught.’

‘I wouldn’t expect you to.’

Bull released Dorian’s hand. Dorian had begun to run towards the Dalish wagon when Bull called his name. Dorian turned and Bull flung his staff towards him. Dorian caught it mid-air and twirled it expertly. He had missed its comfortable weight in his hand.

Bull snorted and shook his head. ‘Show-off ‘Vint.’ Dorian bowed.

Dorian dashed to the Dalish cage and knelt to unlock the door. This wagon was a little closer to the centre of the camp. The flickering firelight was making Dorian feel exposed.  He eased the creaking door open and climbed inside. At least a dozen elven eyes settled on him. They had a uniform blank expression that Dorian found unnerving. He took the wrists of the nearest elf—an older woman with fine grey hair—and unshackled them.

‘Why…’ she whispered but Dorian lifted a finger to his lips. When her feet and neck were unshackled, Dorian moved to the next elf, but the woman snatched the key from him. She waved him away with a firm hand.

‘I’ve got it. You go. We can take it from here.’

Dorian went to shake his head but the Dalish leader shoved him by the shoulder towards the door.

‘Go! We’ll be fine.’

Dorian huffed and climbed out of the cage. He should have taken Ennius’ key too. Then they could have freed people twice as qui--

A horrible thought shuddered through his mind.

Ennius still had his key.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been hit by the Life Train again ( honestly think work is trying to kill me) but don't worry, I expect to have the next chapter up either tomorrow or the nest day. Thank you for your patience. You look very pretty today.


	5. Vat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, people be warned the next chapter involves some graphic violence and what some would see as animal cruelty. It's stretching the definition but let's just say some animals don't have fun in this chapter. Neither do some people. If that's not your thing (I mean, I doubt it's anyone's "thing" but if it's something that triggers you) I would sit this one out.

A cry of “Escape!” broke through the thought with hideously ironic timing. It came from the other end of the camp, before ringing out again, closer. And closer.

Dorian swore and looked back at the Dalish. They were frantic now, trying free everyone. They didn't care how much noise they made or how much their chains rattled.

He heard footsteps thundering towards him. Around the corner of a caravan stepped a barrel-chested slaver. Shock filled the man’s features but he didn’t have time to cry out before Dorian cracked his jaw with his staff. The man’s legs buckled under him and he crumpled. Dorian stood paralysed for a moment, all blind panic. Then his body finally obeyed his screaming brain and he knelt down to check the slaver’s pockets.

He had another key.

Dorian yelled ‘Here!’ at the Dalish, and tossed the key to them. He heard it plonk and skid along the cart’s floor. One of the elves cried back, ‘I’ve got it!’ and began to help free the others. Some of them were beginning to clamber out of the cart.

‘They’re here!’ A rough voice screamed. Two more slavers were charging at them like pair of brontos. ‘They’re over by the--’

The slaver who had been bellowing for back-up slammed into the wall of ice Dorian had just conjured. The frost curled around her, encasing her completely. The other was still stampeding towards him. There was not enough time for Dorian to cast another spell--

Something thrust Dorian backwards, and the mage fell ungracefully onto his backside. A slick, slicing sound cut through the air. The single slaver become two halves of a slaver. The pieces fell away from each other and Dorian looked up at the man who had done the cleaving.

‘What did I say about fucking about?!’ Roared the Iron Bull.

He grabbed Dorian by the front of his shirt and forced him to his feet. All the elves were out of the wagon now. One was stealing a knife from the slaver Dorian had belted with his staff. Another elf had his foot on the arm of the man Bull had slashed apart. He was using his weight to pry the sword out of the man’s death-grip. A Dalish girl, not more than ten, threw a bunch of words in Dorian’s direction as an older elf dragged her off. None of them were in a language Dorian knew. It was the expression and the tone that told Dorian she was saying thank you.

A war cry flew up from behind them, and this time Dorian recognised the voice.

It was Septima.

From between the wagons, on the back of her steel-grey horse, the woman appeared. She had blood smeared across her face, and her dark irises were now pin-points in wide, white eyes. She didn’t hold on to the reins of her horse. Both hands were busy wielding two deadly morning-stars.

‘Time to go!’ Said Bull, and without a second's pause hauled Dorian like a sack over his shoulder. Septima screamed and galloped towards them. Bull made a sharp right, running towards the centre of the camp instead of away. It would be harder for Septima to follow them through the caravans on horseback.

‘Bull, put me down!’ Dorian yelled. He still had a grip on his staff but it’s a close thing.

‘You’re slow and an idiot!’ Bull yelled back, his way of refusing. He weaved his way between the caravans, never slowing for a second. ‘Cover me!’

‘What?!’ A slaver burst from out of nowhere on Dorian’s left. He shot off a fireball, engulfing the woman a split-second before she could stab them. The woman’s body fell against the side of a wagon. It began to catch fire.

‘Like that!’ Bull roared. There was another horrible slicing sound. Dorian saw the head Bull just lopped off someone’s shoulders fly by him and hit the grass as they ran past. Bull took another sharp right at the campfire. It was brief, but Dorian caught a glimpse of the Dalish clan in the middle of hell. A human woman, freed from the other slave wagon, gouged a stick into a slaver's eye. Her body jerked as a blade pierced through her sternum, Varius stabbing her from behind. A pair of elves were dragging a slaver by his legs and arms, kicking and screaming. They threw him full-bodied into the fire. Another of the Dalish was shrieking as a hunting dog latched onto his arm, his blood pouring over its muzzle…

More caravans blocked off Dorian's view of the battle. Bull and Dorian broke out of the edge of the camp. About half the encampment was starting to go up in flames. Dorian didn’t know if that was his doing or the Dalish’s or if a candle got knocked over in the madness. There was nothing behind them but shouts and screams…

A hysterical neigh broke through the rest of the noise. Dorian saw Septima’s horse charge through some of the smouldering wreckage. The horse’s eyes were rolling with a primal, animalistic fear, but the woman astride it made the horse look sane. Dorian looked over his shoulder for the wheat field. He spotted it, roughly a quarter-mile away and the only cover in sight.

‘Shit.’ Bull said and sprinted down the slope.

Septima’s horse reared and gave chase. Dorian’s father had taken him out fox-hunting once or twice. Dorian had never developed a taste for it. It was only now that Dorian realised he found it too easy to empathise with the fox. The wheat field was drawing closer. And closer.  But Septima and her horse were faster still, charging at them like every monster in a childhood nightmare. Dorian set off a few quick fireballs but his aim was wide and high.

‘Any time, ‘Vint!’ Bull hollered over his shoulder.

‘I’m trying, stop jostling me!’ Dorian snapped back. He threw his staff up in the air and snatched it again by the base. Dorian swung it in a heavy arc, just as he had when he’d thwacked that slaver in the jowl. A long swipe of fire burst forth, sending up the undergrowth in a wave of fire. It flared up in a wall of flames before Septima’s horse. The poor animal shrieked and bucked in terror, sending its mad master flying. Dorian saw her fall to the ground and he couldn’t contain a high single ‘Ha!’

‘Something funny?!’ Bull yelled. He was starting to pant.

‘Septima’s horse threw her!’ Dorian explained. Bull barked a laugh.

‘Yeah, that _is_ funny!’

Bull skidded to a stop before the fence that surrounded the wheat field. He shrugged, and Dorian rolled ungracefully off his shoulder. The mage stumbled for a couple of steps, then managed to gain his balance.

‘Never do that again.’ Dorian growled. The Iron Bull crossed his arms.

‘What? Save your life, or carry your worthless arse out of danger? Believe me, ‘Vint, unless you plan on getting captured by slavers again, this was a one-time deal.’

Both Dorian and Bull looked back the direction they had run from. In the middle distance, the slavers' camp was burning. Closer, but still behind a wall of fire, both men could see a silhouette standing motionless. Septima was watching them.

‘How long will that fire-wall last?’ Bull asked.

‘I don’t know, but I would rather not be here when it goes out, would you?’

Bull nodded. ‘We don’t stop until day-break. I want to get as far away from those _Vashedan_ as possible.’

Dorian nodded and climbed over the fence, the Bull following behind him. As they entered the wheat, Bull clapped Dorian on the shoulder.

‘You going to be able to last that long, ‘Vint, or do you want me to carry you again?’

Dorian pulled his shoulder away. ‘Only if you want your face burnt off.’ To Dorian’s annoyance, Bull just chuckled.

‘This is going to be a _fun_ trip.’ Bull said, and the two men faded into the crops.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got nineteen different songs about fire stuck in my head. Okay, that's an exaggeration. More like seven.  
> Hey, at least they're out, right? And now NOTHING can POSSIBLY go wrong!


	6. Venak

Dorian could not remember feeling this tired at any point in his life. Every muscle in his body was shrieking for mercy. Blisters covered his feet, he was sure, and his eyes were refusing to stay open for more than ten seconds. But he trudged on behind the Iron Bull, not making a sound of protest. He told himself it was because it was vital to get as far away from the slave-camp as possible. The more ground they covered, the bigger the search radius, and the harder they would be to track. But truthfully, Bull’s jab about carrying him was running through his mind like an unwanted song.  He wasn’t going to give some one-eyed Qunari the satisfaction of seeing him call for a rest first.

Going by the sun, Dorian thought it must be roughly ten in the morning. That meant that they had been moving non-stop for over sixteen hours. Dorian had no idea how much ground they had covered during that time. The majority of their travel had been at night. Dorian couldn’t even judge the distance they had gone by way of landmarks. He became aware that he, for the first time in his life, hadn’t a single clue where he was. Even when he was a child and had gotten lost in the marketplace, he at least knew he was in the marketplace. But out here, in the wilderness, he may as well have been in a small rowboat in the middle of the ocean.

‘We’ll stop once we get to the river,’ the Iron Bull’s voice broke through his thoughts. Dorian looked up at his travelling partner. They hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen words since they had left the camp behind.

‘Fine by me,’ Dorian said, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. ‘Where’s the river?’

‘Three miles, I reckon.’ Bull panted and pointed at a ragged line of trees that split the plain they had been trekking across in half. The trees were obviously along a riverbank. ‘Tell me if you need to stop, though. I don’t want to have to drag you there if you collapse from exhaustion.’

Dorian scoffed. ‘You’re the one to talk. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you limp your way along for the last two hours. If you faint, there is no way I could drag you an inch, let alone three miles.’

Bull rolled his eye and they continued. He was no longer concerned with speed, but just making it to the tree line. Dorian was right, though. Bull had been limping for a long time now. Dorian thought he could see a flicker of pain cross Bull’s expression every now and again. It was always quickly smothered.

It had been nothing but wheat fields, for a while, and then it had been nothing but forest. Then they had broken through the tree line onto a vast, empty grassland right about dawn. Dorian’s teachers had called his country beautiful many times during his studies. Now he was beginning to suspect none of them had ever seen the countryside.

With nothing but grassland for miles, Dorian had chosen to study his new “friend” to pass the time. It was now clear that Bull had lost the eye ages ago. Thick, raised scars fused the eyelid shut. Back in the slave cart, Bull had muttered something about losing his eyepatch when the slavers caught him.  He hadn’t given any details about how he had lost it. His body had scars, on top of scars, on top of scars. It was like a map, covered in topographic lines. Dorian didn’t understand what he found so fascinating about them.

And then there were the horns.

Maker, have you ever seen such horns?

Dorian had seen drawings of the Qunari. Most of them were in the form of crass propaganda to fuel Tenvinter’s never-ending war. But he had always thought that there must have been an element of exaggeration. A slice of poetic licence to make the enemy seem more terrifying, and thus Tevinter’s eventual victory sweeter.

But no. Turned out Qunari were really that big and their horns were really that huge and…

‘Would you like me to flex for you or something, ‘Vint?’ Bull called over his shoulder. Dorian knew he had been caught. ‘You seem to be enjoying the show.’

Dorian felt a red hot flush creep up his neck and gripped his staff tight. He picked up his pace, coming level with the Iron Bull. He would have to make small talk, but it was better than being behind Iron Bull, perfectly positioned to stare at his distracting… distractions.

‘I’d rather just keep moving, if it’s all the same to you.’

‘Just trying to make conversation. Thought you’d like a chat after days with that thing on your face.’

Dorian ran a hand over the lower half of his face. It felt rubbed raw from the pressure of that horrible muzzle.

‘I think it gave me bruises.’

‘It did. But don’t worry, ‘Vint. You’re still pretty.’

Dorian stumbled mid-step. He found himself steadied by the Iron Bull’s hand on his shoulder. The Qunari laughed.

‘You alright, big guy?’

Dorian pushed the other man’s hand off. ‘Fine. Just lost my footing.’

‘Do you need another piggyback ride?’ Asked Iron Bull. Dorian didn’t look at him, knowing the mercenary would just take pleasure from his scowl.

‘What is your obsession with carrying me?’ Dorian threw back at him. ‘You said back at the camp it was a one-time offer.’

‘That was before I found out you fall flat on your face when someone gives you a compliment.’

The Iron Bull was smiling that infernal smile again. Dorian found it too knowing. Infuriatingly he wasn’t certain what the Iron Bull thought he knew.

‘Well, all you need to do is refrain from complimenting me, if you can, and we shall make it to the river in record time.’

‘If that’s the way it has to be.’ Bull said, but he seemed not to be giving the conversation his full focus anymore. Dorian looked across and saw that Bull was tugging at his bandage again.

‘How’s your arm?’ Dorian asked.

‘It’s not going to fall off, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘Do you want to stop and fix it?’

‘Nah. It'll be alright.’

Dorian frowned. ‘I want to take a look at it once we reach the river.’ He deliberately chose not to look at Bull’s face after saying this. He didn't need to see the Qunari's shock at an evil Tevinter mage displaying basic decency.

‘If you want,’ was all Iron Bull said.

They continued in silence until they reached the river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but the guys had a big night, so they aren't really up for much action. Next chapter our heroes try and figure out what they hell they are going to do.


	7. Llomerryn

Both men groaned in unison as they sank onto the soft, damp earth of the riverbank.  The trees finally blocked off the relentless sun, and Dorian was thanking sweet Andraste he was no longer on his feet. Dorian wondered how much dignity he would lose if he plunged is face in the river and drank like a wild animal. He turned and saw the Iron Bull doing exactly that.  Dorian crawled over to the river and joined him. The water was so fresh and clear. Dorian wondered if the water he had been drinking for all those years in Qunarius was somehow second rate. This river was clearly a magical, holy river blessed with the purest, sweetest water ever to flow. When the both he and Bull had finished, Dorian flopped onto his back and gasped.

‘Do you have any idea where we are?’ Dorian asked.

Iron Bulled wiped his forearm over his mouth and sat back on his knees. ‘Tevinter.’

‘You are the soul of wit, Iron Bull.’

‘Hey, it’s your country. Shouldn’t you know where we are?’

‘This may surprise you, but I am not the sort to go trekking through the wilderness.’

Bull huffed out a short laugh. ‘I figured that.’

Dorian sat up. ‘I suppose we had better make a plan. I don’t like the idea of us sitting here while Septima scours the countryside for us.’

Bull shifted his position, one knee bent up so he could rest his injured arm on it, the other flat along the ground.

‘We’ve put a fair amount of distance between us, and the camp was a wreck. She wouldn’t be able to put together a posse before daybreak. We’re safe enough for now.’ Bull looked up at the sound of fabric ripping. ‘What are you doing?

Dorian had torn a strip from the bottom of his robe. ‘I’m making a bandage for your arm. I’m afraid my only knowledge on the topic stems from terrible romance novels my mother used to read. Beautiful heroines were forever tearing their slips to clean the wounds of their dashing heroes.’

‘No one's called me a dashing hero before.’ Bull smirked, and Dorian mentally kicked himself for leading them straight down this path. Honestly, was Bull just flirting to set Dorian on edge or…

No. There was no “or”. Leave that thought alone, Dorian.

Dorian leaned over and started unwinding the old bandage from Bull’s arm. It was completely caked with Bull’s blood, but to Dorian’s relief the wound didn’t look infected. Actually, it seemed to have shrunk significantly over the course of a single day. Maybe the rumours about the Qunari's extraordinary healing abilities weren’t just rumours.

‘So, we only have our weapons. No food, no clothes, nothing to carry water in?’

‘I would have grabbed some from the wagon, but I got distracted when some idiot mage caught the guard’s attention.’

‘I didn’t catch the guard’s attention, I was-- You know what. I’m just going to move on and not dignify that comment with a response. But the point is we have nothing.’

‘Almost nothing, yes.’

‘And we have no idea where we are.’

‘Not a clue.’

‘And a pack of insane slavers is hunting us down.’

‘Probably.’

‘Right. I’m so pleased we had this chat. It’s made my outlook much rosier.’

Dorian cupped handfuls of water over Iron Bull’s arm while they spoke. When he had cleaned away most of the dried, caked blood, Dorian took the strip of fabric and began to wind it around Iron Bull’s arm. It was a much more effective process now neither of them were shackled.

‘Maybe we should split up.’

Dorian was startled by the sentence, partially because it had come from his own mouth. Iron Bull lifted his head.

‘Do you want to split up?’

‘It may be more practical.’ Dorian said, although that wasn’t answering Bull’s question. The idea of being alone on the road again, this time with no supplies, didn’t really appeal to him. However, ‘The slavers are looking for a mage and a Qunari. Together we stand out more. People will take notice and word could get back to them. Also, while I realise that times such as these make strange…” Dorian was about to say “bedfellows” but managed to swerve his sentence in the direction of ‘…comrades, the truth is we don’t know each other that well. We met yesterday. Maybe we’d both sleep better at night if it wasn’t next to the enemy?’

‘My only enemy right now are the people who attacked my boys and locked me in a cage.’ Iron Bull said. His voice dropped a register as he said it, low and barely restrained. Dorian felt pleased he didn’t sit on the Iron Bull’s enemy list. ‘Besides, I’ve slept next to a ‘Vint for the past couple of years, and he hasn’t stabbed me yet. Lost my eye because of the kid, but besides that...’

Dorian’s head shot up. ‘Wait, you lost your eye to a “’Vint”, and now he travels with you?’

‘I lost my eye when some bastards in a tavern were going to smash Krem’s face in. The fact he was from Tevinter wasn’t an issue. Now he’s my second-in-command. Good guy. Gives too much lip, but I kinda like that.’

Dorian nodded slowly and finished his work. ‘Is your mercenary crew full of people you’ve met in bar fights?’

‘It’s not a bad way to find recruits. You already know they can throw a punch.’ Bull looked down at his arm. ‘Nice job.’

‘I’m no healer but it will do for now.’ Dorian leaned back over to the river and washed his hands. It seemed wrong, sullying the water with blood, but the river soon looked as clear and pristine as it had before.

‘If you want to split up, that’s up to you.’ Bull said behind him. ‘But if we stick together, I reckon we have a better chance.’

‘Is that so? What’s your reasoning?’ Dorian turned to look at Bull, drying his hands on the bottom of his robes.

‘Two people mean two sets of eyes.’

‘Well… one and a half, at any rate.’

Iron Bull raised his eyebrows, but he was smiling. ‘‘Wow. Really? Nice guy, you are. With two of us, one can play look-out while the other sleeps. I’m guessing that Septima and her crew caught you napping?’

Dorian pursed his lips. ‘Yes.’

‘Two people means if we do get attacked, we’ve got someone to watch our back. It means another person to scout for food. Also, I have a feeling people will talk to you when they wouldn’t look twice at me. That one’s selfish on my part, but it proves I’m not likely to snap your neck when you get too annoying. You’re more useful to me alive.’

‘Aren’t you the gentleman.’ Dorian said dryly. Bull moved closer and leaned forward.

‘How about this: we stick together until we meet up with my crew. Then I’ll give you some money and supplies and you can go on your merry way. Sound fair?’

Dorian eyed the Qunari. It sounded more than fair. It sounded too good to be true. ‘Why would you do that for me? It’s not as though you owe me anything. For all you know, I am an evil Tevinter magister. I could bathe in the blood of newborns while their mothers look on and weep.’

Iron Bull scoffed. ‘And  bandages a Qunari’s arm—twice? Frees elven slaves at the risk of his own skin? Nah, ‘Vint. You’re not fooling anyone.’ The Iron Bull poked Dorian’s chest. ‘You’re softer than a feather bed. Truth is, I don’t think you could last two days out here on your own. I’m surprised you lasted this long. If we split up, I’ll feel like I’m abandoning a puppy in the forest. I can’t have that on my conscience.’

‘I don’t know whether to be insulted of flattered. No, wait, I do. Insulted. Indisputably.’

Bull leant away from Dorian. He lay down on the ground, parallel to the river, propping himself on his elbows. ‘So what’s the plan? You trust me enough to stick around?’ Dorian could tell Bull was scrutinising him. Dorian tried to return the look.

‘Trust you? Not in the slightest. Yet, as you pointed out, neither of us are in the position to be picky. Staying together for now seems like the safest idea. Besides, you need me to keep tearing up my robe for bandages. You don’t have enough clothes to do that for yourself.’

‘Aw, you see! You are a softie.’ Iron Bull reached up and punched Dorian’s shoulder. The mage rubbed his arm.

‘But as soon as we meet up with your friendly gang of pub-brawlers, we bid each other a fond farewell. Agreed?’

‘If that's what you want.’ Bull shrugged. Dorian didn’t know how to interpret this statement. Was the Iron Bull trying to imply that Dorian would change his mind, or was Dorian being too sensitive?

Maker, he was tired.

‘You want to put this newfound partnership to the test and sleep while I keep watch?’ Asked Bull. Dorian wondered for a moment if he had said how tired he was out loud. After a moment's reflection he was certain he hadn’t. Dorian was only just starting to realise that the Iron Bull was startlingly perceptive.

‘If I’m honest, I would feel more comfortable taking the first watch while you slept.’

Bull didn’t look offended by the implication. He lay down flat on his back. One arm curled up under his head as a makeshift pillow, while the bandaged arm lay across his stomach. It annoyed Dorian how comfortable he looked. No one should look that relaxed lying on the damp ground.

‘You want the first watch because you still think I’ll kill you while you sleep? Or because you want an excuse to check me out without me knowing?’

Dorian looked down his nose at Bull. The Qunari had his eye closed, but he was smiling. ‘Keep talking like that and you’re going to be the one who ends up murdered in his sleep.’

Bull laughed, and Dorian could feel the ground under him vibrate. He rubbed his bruised face with his hand.

Dorian knew desperate times called for desperate measures. But sweet Andraste, was he this desperate? What sort of world was it when he was fleeing from his family and putting his trust in a Qunari?

Dorian stood up and moved to a nearby boulder. He sat on it, his staff tight in his right hand.

He looked down at Iron Bull, whose breath had become slower and deeper. If he wasn’t asleep now, he soon would be. It was clear Bull didn’t see Dorian as a threat.

Dorian wished he felt the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the boys have a "plan" and a "truce" of sorts.


	8. Ben-Hassrath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look at this. A chapter from Bull's perspective.

 

When the Iron Bull woke, he discovered two things.

  1. Dorian had made a fire.
  2. Dorian looked like shit.



The mage was adding twigs to said fire (a fire started by magic, as it was painfully obvious that Dorian had never started a fire manually in his life) and rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. The sun was just beginning to set. Bull sat up.

‘How long did you let me sleep for?’ He asked. Dorian jumped and turned towards Bull.

‘Ah. You’re awake. Sorry, you startled me.’

‘That doesn’t give me much confidence in your “lookout” skills, ‘Vint.’ Bull voice was sleep-rough. ‘You should have woken me up hours ago. We have to get moving soon, and you haven’t slept at all.’

Dorian scowled at Bull. ‘It won’t be the longest I’ve been without sleep, Iron Bull. Besides, you never specified what time you wanted me to wake you.’

Bull pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so used to the Chargers knowing their jobs. He had forgotten that Dorian wouldn’t automatically know when to change watch. ‘That’s not the point. You’re no good to either of us half-dead.’

‘I am perfectly fine.’ Dorian said, but Bull could see that his eyes were struggling to keep open. It would have been cute if it weren’t so infuriating. Bull shook his head.

‘It doesn’t matter. Sleep now. I’ll wake you up when we have to move on.’

Dorian forced his eyes open and fixed Bull with a look. ‘I thought you said we need to go. I would rather keep moving than lose the lead we have.’

‘We’ll lose the lead anyway if you’re too exhausted to walk.’

Bull, stood up and walked over to the fire. ‘Besides, we’ve got some time. It will be safer if we travel after dark and sleep in the day.  At least until we find a village.’ He nudged Dorian with his boot. ‘Get some rest.’

‘Iron Bull, I am not part of your mercenary crew. You can’t order me about.’ In spite of his words Dorian was yawning while he spoke. He lay down on the ground next to the fire and curled up in the foetal position. Bull sat next to him and folded his arms over his knees

‘Do you feel the need to pick a fight with everyone you meet? Or am I just special?’

‘You’re certainly unique, Iron Bull.’ Dorian mumbled. Bull wasn’t sure if Dorian meant for him to have heard that.

Bull sat by the fire and listened while the wood crackled and Dorian snored. Bull couldn’t help but laugh at that. He stored that little fact away to annoy Dorian with later.

Bull shifted a little and heard something clink against his thigh. He looked down and remembered.

He _had_ been able to grab something back at the camp.

While he had been digging through the mule’s wagon, looking for anything that might be useful, he had come across a small leather satchel. It had jingled and clinked when he’d moved it. Thinking that it might have been coin, Bull had tied it onto his belt, so he could examine it later.

Well, it was later now.

Bull untied the drawstring and let the contents of the satchel spill out into his open palm

It wasn’t coin, but it was close.

The bag was full of valuables: rings, necklaces, brooches. The slavers must have stripped all their captives when they caught them and pooled all the spoils together to share out later. Or Septima just kept it all. That wouldn’t have surprised Bull in the least.

But this was good. It meant that they had something to trade once they reached the next town. Before, Bull had been certain he and Dorian would have to offer to wash dishes and sweep stables to find a bed for the night. They might end up doing that anyway, but for now they at least had a small safety net. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Bull picked up a delicate amulet from the mound of trinkets and held it out in the firelight. He didn’t know if it was because it was too dark to see properly, or because the person who made it had no idea what they were doing, but Bull couldn’t figure out what the amulet was meant to be depicting. A two headed snake in a bush? Two ugly birds trying to neck each other? A pretzel on a cloud? Bull would have bet money it belonged to Dorian. The thing was gaudy enough. He set it aside so he could give it back to the ‘Vint later.

Bull’s eye landed on his eyepatch at the bottom of the pile. ‘Yes!’ he cried out, but silenced himself when Dorian groaned and twitched in his sleep. Bull looked down at Dorian for a moment, making sure he hadn’t woken him. He hadn't. Bull pulled his eyepatch out from under the tangle of jewellery, laid it on his thigh, tipped the handful of trinkets back into the pouch, and then picked up the patch again. He carefully reattached it to the ring of leather on his horn before drawing it across his scarred eye. It felt good to have it back. His face always felt a bit naked without it.

After tying the pouch back onto his belt, Bull absently rubbed his knee. It was screaming. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like the slavers had been able to fit his leg brace into that little leather pouch. Stiches would give him grief about losing it when he got back, no doubt, but for now there was no choice but to go without.

He let his hand leave his knee and reached into his boot to pull out his work papers. It was more out of habit than anything. He did it whenever he got a spare moment. He was shocked that the slavers hadn’t found them. Then again, Bull had gotten the impression none of them wanted to spend too much time frisking the Qunari. There were job offers, Ben-Hassrath orders, bits of information from informants. Some of the letters he had read through dozens of times, others he hadn’t even opened yet. There was even the stupid letter that had led him and his boys to the bloody Imperium in the first place.

_‘They want me to work for a magister? A fucking magister.’_

_Gatt shrugged. It wasn’t a hey-what-can-you-do? shrug. It was an I-know-it’s-crazy shrug._

_‘Gatt, I told the Ben-Hassrath about the letter for the sake of being open. I know some of them still have,’ Bull paused, looking for the right word, ‘reservations about me, after how shit went down in Seheron.’ Bull didn’t elaborate and Gatt didn’t need him to. ‘I didn’t think they would actually want me to take the job.’_

_‘But they do.’_

_‘They do know the job is in Qarinus, Tevinter, right? As in, the country we have been at war with for over a century?’_

_‘They’re aware.’_

_‘Just wanted to make sure they hadn’t forgotten.’_

_Gatt leaned back on his chair as a barmaid came and placed two tankards on the table. Bull winked at her as she walked past. Even with the loud tavern chatter, Bull caught the sound of the woman’s giggle._

_‘This is a rare opportunity, Hissrad.’ Gatt lowered his voice. ‘The magister could have sent that letter to any number of mercenary crews. Choosing to recruit outside of Tevinter is telling in itself.’_

_‘A ‘Vint wants to keep their shady dealings under wraps’ Bull drank from his tankard. ‘Shocking.’_

_‘The magister and their sordid little job don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. It’s just an in. Once you’re in Tevinter, any intelligence you can gather on the Imperium could be invaluable.’_

_‘Wouldn’t it be easier to send a fine young viddathari such as yourself on this mission? Believe it or not, Gatt, I tend to stand out.’_

_‘The magister’s asked for the Bull’s Chargers by name. Presumably, they think you’re Tal-Vashoth—no offence.’ Gatt had noticed the way Bull’s hand clenched around his tankard at the suggestion. ‘They chose you specifically, so it has to be you. Besides, you know how much sway magisters have in that blighted country. No one dares question them. Show that letter to anyone who looks sideways at you. They’ll not only back off, they'll give you all their money, their horse, and let you fuck their wife.’_

_Bull didn’t laugh at this, and he normally would have. It made Gatt uneasy. Bull’s gaze was fixed on the table._

_‘It’s more than that, isn’t it? This is a test.’_

_Gatt sighed and moved his chair closer to the table. The legs made scratching noises as the rubbed against the stone floor. ‘I know where your loyalties are, Hissrad. The Ben-Hassrath do too. This is just… a way of showing them you’re back in the game.’_

_Bull met Gatt’s gaze and leant back in his chair, one arm slung over the back. ‘It shouldn’t be too hard.’ He sounded resigned. ‘Have you read what the magister needs the Chargers for? Apparently, it will take a whole gang of mercenaries to track down one missing rich kid.’_

_‘So you’ll do it?’_

_‘Was there ever any doubt?’ Asked Bull, but a more accurate question would have been “Do I have a choice?”_

Dorian murmured in his sleep, and Bull folded up the papers and slipped them back into his boot. The ‘Vint was the suspicious kind (although describing a ‘Vint as suspicious was a bit like saying “it was the wet kind of water”). If Dorian saw Bull flashing around papers with the word “Ben-Hassrath” on them, the guy would run a mile.

Krem had always teased Bull for his habit of “picking up strays”. It was pretty ironic coming from King Stray himself. But Krem wasn’t wrong. The Chargers could be called the worst of the best or the best of the worst. A mishmash of undesirables who, ironically, had all the skills rich people paid good money for. That was part of why Bull chose them.

He could always see when someone was in trouble, and he had some weird compulsion to try and help. It had been that way ever since he was a kid. And this Dorian guy was… Bull wasn’t sure. He was either _in_ trouble, or he _was_ trouble.

Bull knew nothing about Dorian’s life before the slavers caught him. But there was no way the mage was going on a walking tour of Tevinter when they snatched him. It also led to the question of why the hell Dorian was travelling alone. There was no doubt about it. Dorian had already admitted they took him while he slept. That meant there was no one to keep watch for him like Bull was doing now. Also, Dorian had gone out of his way to free a wagon of Dalish slaves—complete strangers. If he had been travelling with someone, there was no way Dorian would have left them behind. No. It was clear Dorian was alone.

And Bull didn’t like the way that sat in his mind.

So, where did all this leave him?

He was in Tevinter. He was cut off from his men. The Ben-Hassrath were using this mission as a gauge to see whether his re-education had stuck. Slavers were hunting him down, and his only ally was a cagey 'Vint mage with the self-preservation skills of Saarebas without an Arvaard.

How had everything gotten so messy?

Oh yeah, that’s right. He was in fucking _Tevinter_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> Edit: Bull's thoughts on Dorian's amulet were inspired by embyrr922's comments while editing this fic. They were so funny I had to include them.


	9. Luminatione

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after a long-ish hiatus we're back. I currently have a nasty brand of the flu so I've taken time of work, and it has resulted in a bit of writing (Yay?) I'm going to endeavour to get another chapter up tomorrow.  
> Also a warning for animal cruelty in this chapter.

Dorian’s black, soundless, world rocked back and forth, dragging him out of sleep. He looked up to see a huge, horned figure standing over him. Dorian gasped and shrank back before remembering who Iron Bull was.

‘Sorry.’ The Iron Bull almost sounded sheepish. ‘Didn’t mean to scare you.’

‘I’m fine.’ Dorian ran his hand over his face before he looked back at Bull. ‘Just… blindsided by the eyepatch.’

Even in the dying firelight, Dorian could see Iron Bull was amused.

‘Like it?’

‘It’s very rakish. Time to go?’ He asked.

‘Yes. Moon’s almost full, which means we’ll have some light to travel by.’

‘But so will the slavers.’ Dorian pointed out. Bull stood and offered Dorian his hand.

‘Can’t do anything about that. May as well look on the bright side.’

‘Our bright side has been a little dim, of late.’ Dorian took his staff in one hand and stood. Everything everywhere ached. Bull began to kick dirt over the fire. The flames fizzled and died under the damp earth.

‘We escaped a group of crazy slavers and set all their shit on fire. I count that as positive.’

Dorian helped Bull finish putting out the fire. It was surprising how dark it was when they had buried last of the flames. ‘Far be it from me to dampen your optimistic outlook.’

There was a rumble of laughter in the darkness. A giant hand landed on Dorian’s shoulder.

‘Come on. We’ll head along the river. We may make more tracks that way, but the tree line will make it harder to spot us from the plains.’

Dorian nodded and followed Bull as they began to walk again.

The night air was cool and fresh against his skin, his breath misting out of his nose. The only thing keeping Dorian warm was their continual movement.  He knew it would be freezing before dawn. His feet sank into the moist ground along the riverside, making the onward trudge that much more difficult. Every so often, Dorian’s foot would discover a surprise root or stone that he couldn’t avoid in the dark, and he would stumble. His staff became a walking stick, helping him to keep balance on this traitorous ground. Even though the only other living soul Dorian could see was Bull, every nerve in Dorian’s body was tense. He felt like there were a thousand sets of eyes on him, just waiting for the right moment to strike.

‘Hey Dorian.’ Bull whispered from in front. ‘I was able to grab a pouch of stuff back at camp. I found this.’

Dorian was only just able to make out Bull’s arm reaching back towards him in the dappled moonlight. There was something dangling from his hand.

Dorian snatched it.

‘You found it! I don’t believe it.’

‘I knew it would be yours.’ Bull said. ‘Looks like a family heirloom thing.’

‘I er…’ Dorian swallowed a breath of cold air. How much did the Iron Bull know about the Tevinter Nobility? He doubted a Qunari mercenary would be familiar with the Pavus name, but it wouldn’t hurt to be discreet. And by “be discreet”, Dorian meant “lie”.

‘Yes.’ He said drew the word out. ‘It is an heirloom. But it’s not mine.’

Bull looked at Dorian over his shoulder. ‘You stole it?’

‘No! Why would you immediately assume that?

‘If it’s not yours, how else would you get it?’

‘I am a Laetan. The crest is that of the family who have sponsored my magical studies. In exchange I act as their scribe, business envoy, and so on. They allow me to carry their crest as proof of my affiliation.’

Dorian had developed this cover within a week of escaping his father’s house. It was a good cover to the extent that people tended to get out of Dorian’s way when he pulled out his birthright, not daring to ask questions. However, word could get back to his father. A young man, travelling alone, was flashing the Pavus seal left, right, and centre? It wouldn’t be too difficult to track him down. Thus Dorian had used the birthright and the fake identity sparingly.

‘So you’re a glorified letter boy.’

‘Basically.’

Bull scoffed.  ‘If it’s not yours, why are you so happy to have it back?’

‘Ah. Well.’ Dorian’s voice wavered. ‘My master wouldn’t be pleased to learn I'd lost it.’

‘Slavers kidnapped you, Dorian. I think he’d be more worried about losing a servant than losing a necklace.’

‘It would stagger you to learn what he values and what he willingly casts aside.’ Dorian muttered.

Bull didn’t comment. The trudge continued. The silence grew in depth. Dorian decided he hated it.

‘So, why did you decide we should go in this particular direction?’ Dorian asked.

‘The river will flow to the ocean. When we get there, we’ll know where we are.’

‘We’ll be at the ocean.’

‘Exactly.’

Dorian shrugged. ‘Fair enough.’

‘Septima was right.’ Bull began to explain. ‘I worked out a meeting point with the Chargers in case anyone got separated. Didn’t think it would be me, but life’s a bitch.’

‘Where’s the meeting point?’

‘Krem suggested Vyrantium, and since he’s the only ‘Vint on the team, we followed his lead. The problem is, I have to get to Qarinus in the next ten days.’

Dorian stopped dead. ‘Qarinus?’

‘Yes. And the last time I had any idea where I was, Qarinus was north-east and Vyrantium was south-west.’

‘You’re leading us to Qarinus?

Bull stopped and turned when he realised Dorian voice was no longer right behind him. He could just make out Dorian’s silhouette: rigid and unmoving.

‘I was considering it.’ Bull said carefully. ‘If I’m not there in person, I lose a job. A big one. I thought we’d make a decision once we reached the ocean. You don’t think it’s a good idea?’

Dorian cleared his throat. Obviously the cold night air was having this effect on his voice, nothing else.

‘But what about your men?’

‘They could meet me there. Easy enough to get a message from Qarinus to Vyrantium, I suspect. You would know all about that, wouldn’t you, letter-boy?’

Dorian didn’t even pretend to laugh at this comment. Bull tilted his head. ‘What’s wrong with Qarinus?’

‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with Qarinus. Lovely climate, beautiful views.’ Dorian knew that his forced casualness was not convincing anyone. ‘I was heading south, that’s all. If you were going to go north, we may have to split up after all.’

Bull went to speak, when a long reedy howl broke through the night. Dorian spun around.

‘What was that? Wolves?’

‘Or worse.’

‘Bull, perhaps you have a better imagination than me, but I can’t think of anything worse than wolves right now.’

‘What about the slavers’ hunting dogs?

Dorian looked back at Bull. ‘Alright. That’s worse. You win.’

‘I’d rather lose.’

A howl rang out again. No. Not one howl. Three.  Bull grabbed Dorian by the shoulder and heaved him forward.

‘We've got to move. Now!’

Dorian pulled Bull’s hand away but raced after him, trying to keep up with the Qunari’s speed. They were sprinting along the riverbank now. Nearly every step was a stumble or a trip. Dorian almost fell flat on his face repeatedly but always just managed to right himself. Bull didn’t seem to have the same problem. Superior Qunari night-vision or some rot, Dorian guessed. But that limp from earlier this morning was back with a vengeance. Dorian could tell Bull was doing everything in his power to ignore it, to push through it. But his breathing was becoming more ragged and his gasps for air were becoming grunts of pain. A tree branch snapped across Dorian’s forehead, but he ignored it. He thought he could hear other sounds in the distance now. Not the noises of animals though. These voices belonged to men. Fear was welling up in his stomach. It was setting his limbs alight, fuelling his frantic flight. But terror was only going to push him for so long. Dorian was exhausted and he knew Bull was too.

Dorian sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Bull, maybe we should fight!’

Bull didn’t slow down. ‘I’ve fought them before, Dorian. With all my men.  Believe me, the two of us aren’t going to be enough! We have to keep running.’

‘We have nowhere to run to! Besides, you fought them before a Dalish clan stabbed half of them to death! We may have a chance!’

‘I’m not going to argue with a ‘Vint while we’re running for our lives!’

‘Then don’t! Let’s face them and--’ Dorian’s luck at staying upright finally ran out. A root caught Dorian around the ankle and he toppled into the mud. He skidded for a few seconds before stopping. Bull ran back to him immediately, jerking him to his feet.

‘This is a really bad habit of yours ‘Vint!’ Bull snapped. Dorian wasn’t looking at him.

‘There!’ Dorian pointed past Bull’s shoulder into the night. Bull looked.  Across the river and up a hillside stood a farmhouse and a barn. Inside the house, a tiny candlelight was flickering.

Bull looked back at Dorian.

‘Can you swim?’

Horror leapt onto Dorian’s face. ‘No!’

‘Now’s a great time to learn!’

Bull seized a handful of Dorian’s robes before hurling them both into the river.

The water was freezing. Dangerously freezing. Dorian felt like he had all the air punched out of his lungs as soon as it hit his chest. That was as deep as the river got, but the current was a relentless push. It threatened to wrench Dorian off his feet and drag him downstream. He started to wade his way across. No matter how fast he tried to move, the water slowed him down to the pace of a crawling infant. Every step was an effort.  Panic was beginning to rise in Dorian’s throat. He thought his knees might buckle under him. The river tried to rip his staff out of his grip, but he held firm. Bull kept his grip on Dorian’s clothes, preventing Dorian from washing away. He shouted something at the mage, but Dorian couldn’t hear over the river’s roar.  A burst of water hit Dorian in the face and he spluttered and coughed trying to shake the water out of his eyes. That’s when he saw the massive piece of driftwood hurtling downriver towards Bull.

‘Bull, look out!’ He shouted. The fool turned and looked at him instead of at his oncoming death.

‘What!?’ Bull yelled back. Dorian knew there wasn’t time for another warning.

Dorian lifted his staff out of the water and shouted an incantation. The driftwood exploded. Fragments of charcoal hit Bull and Dorian’s faces and torsos. But they were both unharmed.

Dorian glanced at Bull. His expression in the moonlight was a mix of awe and terror.

‘I tried to warn you!’ Dorian yelled, but he was certain Bull didn’t hear him. Instead they continued to wade through the freezing rapids as fast as they could.

They were almost to the other side. Torchlights broke through the tree line behind them.

There were five of them. All on horseback. It was too dark for Dorian to see any of their faces, but he was fairly sure Septima wasn’t among them. Thank Andraste for small mercies.

Four dogs barked and snarled as they darted between the horses' legs. Dogs that, in Dorian’s opinion, were far too big and had far too many teeth. His mind flashed back to that one Dalish elf screaming in fright and agony while one of those dogs tore at his arm. Dorian flung the thought away from himself. He forced his legs and body to push on against the surging pressure of the water.

One of the slavers bellowed something, but Dorian couldn’t make out any of the words.

Just keep moving. They may be on horseback but you’re almost to the other side. Just keep--

Something whizzed past Dorian’s ear and hit the water. He scanned over his shoulder again. Dorian felt Bull’s hold on him grow tighter, forcing him to move forward faster. Bull had already seen what Dorian was trying to catch a glimpse of.

The men on horseback had bows. They were shooting at them.

Dorian felt something slice past his neck. He lifted his hand to it. It came back slicked in blood.

‘Oh, enough of this!’ Dorian snarled, raising his staff over his head. The slavers released another volley of arrows. This time they snapped and splintered against Dorian’s barrier. The water was down to Dorian’s knees now. His clothes clung to him, heavy and chilling.

One of the slavers yelled something again, and they began to urge their horses into the stream. Bull and Dorian finally scrabbled to the other bank.

‘Let’s go!’ Bull yelled.

‘Not yet.’ Dorian said. His voice was serene. Not in a good way.

‘Dorian, we have to move now!’

Bull tried to grab Dorian’s clothes again, but this time the mage pushed him away.

‘A bit more.’ Dorian whispered. ‘Come on. One more.’

Bull looked across the river to see what Dorian had locked his gaze on. One of the dogs, one with a torn ear and lip, was leaping around on the riverbank. The creature was too smart to enter the freezing river unless he had no choice. The horses were a third of the way in now, the rest of the dogs swimming with ease.

‘Come on you stupid mutt! Get in the bloody river!’

‘Dorian!’

Bull was just about to haul Dorian over his shoulder again when the dog finally leapt into the water.

Dorian spun his staff over his head and drove the end down into the river. Lighting crackled from it. It scattered across the surface of the water like a spider’s web. Horses, dogs, and men all cried out in a cacophony of pain. Dorian didn't stay to watch. He was already running, and Bull was right behind him.

‘Anyone ever tell you you’re one fucking scary guy, ‘Vint?’ Bull said, as they ran uphill toward the farmhouse.

Dorian laughed. There was no humour in it. ‘None to my face.’

‘There may be a reason for that.’


	10. Abscondo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. No real warnings for this chapter. Except maybe badly ooc sheep. Believe me normally they are the dumbest most easily frenzied creatures ever. Or at least the one's I have met were. These sheep are far too zen.

Bull and Dorian reached the crest of the hill. The farmhouse was silent, but lit from within. The two men crouched and snuck around the side of the house towards the dark barn. There were a few sparse animal noises coming from inside. Bull passed the barn, heading down the other side of the hill. Dorian grabbed his arm.

‘Where you going?!’ Dorian hissed. ‘The barn’s here.’

‘We should keep moving.’

‘What? We crossed that freezing river just to get here! Our arses almost got shot full of arrows!’

‘They’re going to know where we are if we stay here!’ Bull snarled back. ‘It’s not like there’s anywhere else to hide.’

‘Exactly. Where are we going to go if we keep running?’

‘So what’s your plan? Knock on the farmer’s door and say “Hello old chap! Would you mind terribly if two escaped slaves boarded with you for the night? Also we may have led a gang of brutal slavers right to your doorstep. Sorry for the inconvenience. Hope you don’t mind.”’

‘I do _not_ sound like-- look, we don’t have time for this. Just shut up and get in the barn.’

Bull growled and seemed to swell in size. ‘You did _not_ just tell me to shut up…’

‘It would be a smart idea for both of you to shut up.’

Bull and Dorian turned around. It was a woman.  She was in her night clothes, a fur-lined cloak, and a pair of worn work-boots. The last two bits of clothing looked like she had pulled them on in a hurry. Her long, curly black hair was twisted with streaks of grey and tumbled out of a loose bun on top of her head.  She had her eyes locked on them from the opposite end of a bow and arrow. Behind her stood an elf, dark skinned and without a vallaslin. Her hair was curly too, but shorter, greyer, and with tighter locks. It sat about her head like a cloud in the moonlight. The elf was tugging a blanket across her shoulders with one hand and holding a candle in the other. The elf looked less murderous than the human woman. In truth, she looked annoyed.

The human jerked her bow upwards. Her skin looked pallid in the moonlight, her mouth a thin line. ‘Hands up! Both of you.’

Dorian and Bull glanced at each other before raising their hands.

‘Ma’am.’ Bull said, voice level and reasonable, ‘We’re not looking to cause trouble.’

The woman with the bow sneered. ‘You should have thought about that before you came here to steal our sheep.’

Dorian’s laugh was short but borderline hysterical. ‘Steal your sheep? Bull, she thinks we’re going to steal her sheep!’

‘Dorian--’ Bull warned. But the mage went on.

‘Her precious, magical, jewel encrusted sheep, no doubt! Oh Maker, preserve me, how will we live without this woman’s _sheep_!’

The elf stepped forward and whispered in the human woman’s ear.

‘Désirée, look at them.’

‘I am looking at them Sulahn.’ The human had a slight Orlesian accent. ‘Looking at them makes it easier for me to shoot them.’

‘No, dear. _Look_ at them.’

Dorian frowned and looked over at Bull to try to see what the elf was implying. Bull looked ragged. His clothes were soaking and clung to his body. His bandage had unravelled from his arm during their flight and the wound was bleeding again.  Dark grey patches had formed around Bull’s neck and wrists. It wasn't hard to tell they were bruises from shackles. His posture, his stance, everything about him screamed “exhaustion”. Dorian knew he didn’t look much better.

The human lowered her bow. ‘Slaves.’ She said through gritted teeth.

A series of shouts came from the direction of the river. The human and the elf looked back at Dorian and Bull.

This is it, Dorian thought. These women are going to turn us over to the slavers for whatever reward they can get. We are going to be hauled back in chains, if they don’t just shoot us dead where we stand--

‘In the barn!’  The human woman whispered. ‘Up in the hayloft! Now!’

‘Wait, what’s--’ Dorian said, but Bull was already pushing him inside.

There were a lot of sheep inside. A lot of sheep. The barn was almost wall to wall sheep. Dorian couldn’t understand why the woman was so protective of the stupid creatures. She could stand to lose a few sheep. They were all drowsy and stupid and didn’t seem interested in the Mage and the Qunari who waded their way through their ranks. One gave a disgruntled bleat when they pushed it out of the way of the foot of the ladder, but that was about it. The ladder was old, frail, and looked like no one had dared use it years. Bull looked at Dorian. Dorian shook his head and gave a “no-please-after-you” sweep of his arm. Bull rolled his eye, grabbed the ladder, and clambered up it without any hesitation. There was no snapping sound, no crack of the rungs breaking. Dorian waited until Bull was up the top. He looked over the ladder with a critical eye. Bull was looking over the edge, gesturing for him to hurry up. Dorian squared his shoulders, took the ladder firmly in hand, and climbed.

It snapped three rungs from the top.

Dorian gave a little gasp, but Bull managed to grab his collar and pull him over the edge of the loft. The mage could do nothing for a few seconds but lie on his back and force himself to breathe.

‘Thank yo--‘

‘Shhh!’ Bull cut him off. Dorian scowled.

‘Well, pardo--‘

 _‘Shhh!‘_ Bull clamped his hand over Dorian’s mouth.  Dorian went to tug it away, but Iron Bull’s hand squeezed a little tighter. A warning.

Dorian resigned himself to lying there and listening to whatever Bull was so damn intent on listening to.

Outside the barn, Dorian could make out the muffled voices of the women.

‘Dear, we both know it has to be me.’

‘You know I hate it when you use your “be reasonable” voice, Sulahn. Why does it have to be you?’

‘Because I’m the one who can cry on demand.’

The Olesian woman sighed. It was obvious she had just lost the argument. ‘Alright. Ready?’

‘Go ahead.’

A harsh slap echoed through the night. Both Bull and Dorian flinched but didn’t change their position. The human woman was apologising over and over.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sor--‘

‘It’s okay, Désirée. I’m fine. One more for luck.’

‘Fuck luck, your lip is bleeding.’

‘We need to be convincing--‘

‘Too late, here they come.’

Out of nowhere, a series of wails broke out. Dorian had never heard such crying. It was like a child who had lost their mother at the market-place. Dorian had heard the elven woman say she could cry on demand, but these sobs could be nothing but genuine, surely? Dorian looked over at Bull. He was nodding his head, wordlessly saying “not bad.”

A volley of hoofbeats drew closer, coming to a halt on the other side of the barn wall. There were a few distressed yips and whines mixed into the other sounds. The dogs hadn't enjoyed their swim.

‘Have you seen--‘ One of the slavers began. The Olesian woman cut him off.

‘The Qunari and the human? Course we did you fool! They attacked my wi-- my maidservant and stole our only horse!’

‘Which way did they go?’ Dorian’s breath hitched. He recognised the voice. Varius.

‘I don’t know. I have more pressing problems, like Sulahn’s face.’

‘Which way did they go, woman!’

The crying petered off. ‘They said something about heading south and doubling back over the river.’ The elf’s voice was shaky and rough. ‘If you hurry--‘

There was a flurry of galloping as the horses sped away into the night. The sounds of the slavers became quieter and quieter before disappearing altogether. Dorian only felt safe when Bull withdrew his hand. Neither of them moved.

The barn door slid open and the two women walked inside.

‘It’s safe to come out now. They’re gone on a wild goose chase. Hello? You still here?’

Dorian and Bull peered over the edge of the hayloft. The elven woman looked positively cheerful.

The Orlesian woman glared.

‘What are you thinking bringing trouble like that to our doorstep?’ She snapped. ‘Do you realise what they would have done to us if they found you here.’

‘We didn’t have a choice, ma’am,’ said Iron Bull as he climbed down the ladder. Blasted thing was as steady for Bull on the way down as it was on the way up. Dorian followed. This time the ladder gods smiled upon him.

‘Of course you didn’t,’ said the elven woman. She was using the same tone she’d assumed when she’d convinced her wife to hit her. Her lip was swollen and split, but her smile was carefree. ‘Would you gentlemen like to come in for some tea and a bite to eat? You must be starving.’

Dorian hadn’t been starving until she had said those words. Then he remembered he hadn’t eaten since… oh, that’s right. The day before he’d met Iron Bull. This realisation made Dorian so hungry he felt like he wanted to vomit.

‘Sulahn, are you honestly going to invite two strangers into our home in the middle of the night for food? They may be dangerous.’

‘Oh they're certainly dangerous, dear. The one with a moustache is a mage, and the other is the biggest Qunari I have ever laid eyes on. That’s why I want them to be on our side.’

‘And believe me madam,’ Dorian bowed his head a little. ‘After heroically shielding us from those slavers, we are already in your debt. Feed us as well, and you may well be entitled to our first-borns.’

Bull’s hand landed on his shoulder like a comfortable weight.

The human woman—Désirée, her wife kept calling her—rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile on her lips. She may be a farmer now, but something in her air reminded Dorian of court. And nothing appealed more to those in court than flattery and power. And nothing said power more than having someone indebted to you.

‘Besides,’ Sulahn leant forward and whispered, but Dorian and Bull could still hear her words, ‘if there is anyone in Tevinter who knows the plight of runaway slaves, dear, it’s us.’

Désirée pressed her mouth into a thin line. ‘Fine.’ She said. ‘One meal, and you can sleep the night in the barn. But tomorrow both of you have to go. You’ve endangered our family enough as it is.’

‘Mamae? Mère? You in here?’ A small head peered around the door of the barn. Three more followed. They were children. All dressed in long night-gowns and still confused from sleep. Two boys, a human and a dwarf, and two elven girls. ‘What’s going on?’

Sulahn walked forward, scooped up the dwarf and sat him on her hip. ‘We’ve got surprise visitors da'lens! We’re going to have a feast! Who’s going to help me kill the chickens?’


	11. Epulum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longish chapter where not a lot happens, I'm afraid. Except two fanfiction cliches for the price of one.

If Dorian had to pick the most surprising thing he had learnt about the Iron Bull during their short acquaintance, “he’s great with children” was near the top of the list.

He didn’t even have to try to appeal to the kids. They loved him on sight. Bull just let the children climb all over him and caught them whenever they slipped off. Dorian was relieved that none of the children seemed particularly interested in him. Children had always seemed off-putting to Dorian, even when he was one.

Their clothes dried by the fire. Both men were in a state of undress. Neither woman had any clothes that would fit Dorian, let alone Iron Bull. So for now, they had to preserve their modesty with some rough, woollen blankets wrapped around their midsections.  Dorian would have been mortified by the prospect under typical circumstances. But after the last few days, he had moved past the point of caring. He was warm, he was full, and these women had bandaged and cleaned their wounds. Dorian was practically in heaven.

Sulahn passed him a cup of tea. He nodded in thanks.

‘Fine looking brood you both have.’ He said, taking a sip. Désirée nodded. She had mellowed over the course of the meal. A meal which had included a leg of mutton, two chickens, bread, gravy, four different kinds of root vegetable, green beans, cabbage, mushrooms, and some sort of sweet pie for dessert. Even Iron Bull had had his fill.

She pointed to the human boy who was climbing up Bull’s back.

‘Émile’s the only one of our children who came from my womb.’

There was a striking resemblance between mother and son. It was partially his features, but mostly his expression.

Her finger moved to the dwarven boy, who was hanging from one of Bull’s horns. ‘Rogan’s mother didn’t want her son growing up as part of the Carta.’

Then she pointed at the elven girl hugging Bull’s leg and giggling. ‘Hamin was a slave. We “persuaded” her master to give her to us. And Atisha,’ Désirée sighed. ‘Her clan had too many mages.’

Dorian raised his eyebrows. He looked down at the little girl, who was the only one not trying to clamber up the Qunari. She was gazing at his staff, which he had leant against the fireplace. Dorian tapped her shoulder gently. The elf spun around. Her eyes were huge and brown.

Dorian smiled and snapped his fingers. A tiny flame leapt from his palm and wrapped itself around his thumb. The girl’s eyes somehow grew wider. Dorian took her hand and carefully laid the flame in her palm. He felt his mana release it as she began to sustain the spark with her own. The girl’s grin grew wider than her eyes and she ran off to show her brothers and sisters her new trick. Désirée’s brow furrowed.

‘You want her to burn our house down?’

‘Keeping a flame lit is one thing, creating it is another. That will take more practise to master.’ Dorian smiled, but Désirée didn’t return it. ‘Forgive me; I’ve crossed a line somewhere.’

‘No. No you haven’t.’ Désirée patted his arm. ‘It’s just--‘ she paused, considering her words for a moment. ‘Sulahn and I have been discussing what’s best for Atisha. A man called Florus who lives near town has offered to teach her the basics of magic. But his skills are limited, and he thinks it may be best to send her to a circle.’

Dorian frowned. ‘A circle? But she’s elven.’ Désirée scowled.

‘You think she isn’t as talented as the human mages? That she doesn’t deserve the best education?’

‘My dear lady, that is not what I meant at all.’ Dorian looked over at Bull. He was doing a fantastic job of being impressed by Atisha’s new skill, while holding Émile upside down by the leg. Bull wasn’t listening. Dorian leaned forward. ‘You are talking to someone who was part of a circle for years. More than one actually. Some of the finest and most prestigious circles money could buy.’

Désirée raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that so?’

‘Yes. And I loathed every second. The torment I had to endure from my tutors and classmates was horrendous. Yet my experiences pale in comparison to those of others. I can only imagine how much worse the experience would be for a shy elven girl. To put your daughter in that environment could very well destroy her.’

Dorian leant back and hoped that his expression and tone were honest enough for Désirée to believe him. Even though he knew it was impossible, her hair seemed a little greyer after the conversation. Sulahn, who had been listening to them chat, scooted her chair forward. Her face was neutral, but her eyes were sad.

‘Neither of us are mages. What are we going to do as she gets older? More powerful?’

Dorian shook his head. ‘I can’t answer that for you. Florus seems like the best option for now. But I would implore you, on your daughter’s behalf, not to send her to a circle unless it is your final resort. Learning to control magic is important, but having a loving family to support you is vital. It’s something I envy.’

Sulahn nodded and Désirée actually smiled. There was a collective “aww” from the children as Atisha’s flame flickered out. Sulahn stood to her feet.

‘Alright da'lens! Time for bed!’

The “aww” sounded again, only this time Bull joined in. Sulahn clapped her hands together and started herding the children towards the family's only bedroom. Bull followed, snatching up a straggler and carrying them under his arm. Désirée yawned.

‘Your clothes won’t be dry until morning, but we’ve got more blankets in that chest by the door. I’m sorry, but the barn really is all we have to offer.’ Dorian lifted up a hand.

‘The barn will be luxury after the last few days, have no fear.’

‘Good. Besides you and Bull may want some privacy.’

Dorian's smile faltered. ‘Pardon?’ Désirée looked impish.

‘Don’t look so fretful, Dorian. I’m Orlesian. It would be unpatriotic for me to be prudish. And Sulahn’s even worse than I am. She’s always been a hopeless romantic.’

Dorian stood up quickly, his chair almost toppling over. ‘I’m sorry, Désirée. There seems to be some misunderstanding. The Iron Bull and I-‘

Bull and Sulahn re-entered the room, and Bull gave an exaggerated stretch and yawn.

‘You ready to sleep big guy?’ Bull asked. ‘Tomorrow we’ve got to be up early and keep moving until sundown. I want to be sure we lost those slavers for good.’

To Dorian’s shock, Iron Bull curled his arm around Dorian’s waist and tugged him close to his side. Dorian discovered suddenly that all the saliva in his mouth had dried up.

‘I-- ugh--’ He said eloquently.

‘I’ve told Dorian that there are more blankets in the chest.’

Désirée stood and wrapped her arm around Sulahn, mimicking Bull and Dorian’s stance. Sulahn carded her hand through her wife’s hair. ‘They’re not much, but you’ll need them. The nights around here get cold.’

‘I’m sure they’ll do fine.’ Said Bull. ‘We can’t thank you enough for your kindness. We won't forget it. Will we, Dorian?’

Dorian wanted to agree, but he couldn’t seem to form the words. Iron Bull’s thumb was gently rubbing circles against his hipbone. He remembered they were wearing nothing but blankets, and all he could do was force out a choked sound from the back of his throat.

Bull chuckled. ‘He likes to pretend he’s all haughty and irreverent, but give this guy a tender moment and he gets all choked up.’

Bull’s arm moved up and circled around Dorian’s shoulders before pulling the mage in. He kissed Dorian gently on the temple. Dorian would have leapt away if Bull had not immediately withdrawn to get the extra blankets. He tucked them under one of his giant arms and guided Dorian to the door.

‘Goodnight, boys.’ Désirée called after them.

‘Hopefully you’ll find some way to keep warm.’ Sulahn said. The door closed to the sound of her wife shushing her and giggling.

Dorian followed Bull like a sleepwalker to the barn. It was only when they went in and closed the door that Dorian snapped.

‘Maker’s breath, Bull, what was that about?’

‘What?' Bull asked, tilting his head.

‘You know very well what!’

Bull paused for a moment, looking like he was tossing Dorian’s words around in his head.

‘The kiss?’

‘Yes, the bloody kiss!’

‘You think it was too chaste? Should I have gone for the lips instead?’

‘No, Bull! Don’t play games. I refuse to believe you are that obtuse.’ Dorian hissed. Bull sighed and started wading through the sheep towards the hayloft.

‘Did you see Désirée and Sulahn’s brands?’

‘What brands?’

‘The ones on the backs of their necks. Seals like the one your master gave you, only more permanent.’

‘I failed to notice.’

‘If you had noticed, you’d have seen that their brands were the same. What does that tell you?’

Dorian grimaced. The answer was obvious. Bull answered his own question when Dorian didn’t reply.

‘Both of them were slaves, and both owned by the same master.’

A sheep gave a disgruntled bleat as Bull pushed it out of his way. ‘That means one of two things: they escaped to be together, or they escaped together then hooked up afterwards. My guess would be the first. Star-crossed, interracial lovers risking everything to flee from captivity. Romantic.’ Bull reached the ladder and started climbing. Dorian folded his arms and watched him ascend. But then he remembered Bull was only wearing a rug with nothing underneath, and once the Qunari got high enough, Dorian would be able to see right up…

Dorian turned his head and coughed. ‘This is all clever inductive reasoning. But don’t think I’ll let you chance the subject so easily. Why did you pretend we were a couple?’

Bull reached the top and began to lay out one of the blankets to cover the wooden platform. Dorian began to climb up after him.

‘People are more likely to help you if they can see you as something besides two strangers who hid in their barn. Get them to draw a parallel between you and themselves and bam! Instant empathy. They’ll help you because they feel like they’re helping a version of themselves.’

Dorian pulled himself over the edge of the hayloft and took a moment to re-adjust his modesty blanket.

‘That’s such a cynical outlook. Those two women aided us out of the kindness of their hearts, and you’re consciously manipulating them.’

‘I’m tipping the odds in our favour.’ Said Bull, lying down and spreading another blanket over himself. Well, over as much as it would cover. ‘They wanted to help us, but were also scared of the risk. Pretending we were a couple gave us the edge we needed. And don’t act like you weren’t doing the exact same thing. Putting Désirée in a position of control. Saying we were in their debt. Flattering her--’

‘It’s not the same thing.’

‘Why not?’

‘I wasn’t outright lying to them.’

‘Hey, did I ever _say_ we were a couple?’

Dorian gritted his teeth. ‘You’re truly diabolical, Iron Bull. You do realise that?’

Dorian, finally satisfied that his blanket was not going to slip off his hips turned around. He stopped.

‘What are you doing?’

Bull was holding one corner of the blanket up for Dorian.

‘Waiting for you to hurry up and get in.’

Dorian’s mouth fell open. He shook his head.

‘You are delusional.’

Bull groaned exhaustedly. ‘Really? You’re going to fight me on this too?’

‘I’m not going to share a bed with a Qunari.’

‘You think I’m keen on sleeping next to a demon magnet?’

‘”Sleep next to.” That’s one way of putting it. Do you think I don’t know what you’re suggesting?’

‘Stopping each other from freezing to death by sharing body heat?’

Dorian folded his arms. ‘Do you think I’m that gullible?’

Bull let his head roll back and hit the floor. ‘No offence, Dorian, you’re pretty and everything, but it’s been a rough few days. I don’t have the energy to try and seduce you. Hell, I don’t have the energy for this conversation. If you want to take your own blanket and try and sleep in a corner, cold and half naked, that’s your choice. Otherwise suck it up, be a man, and spoon with me.’

Dorian pursed his lips. Bull watched as his eyes flickered to the corner, to him, back to the corner. Finally Dorian gave an irritated grunt and climbed under the blanket next to him.

‘I am only agreeing to this because of the cold.’

‘Of course.’

‘Don’t get any ideas.’

Bull yawned. ‘No ideas at all.’

...

This wasn’t anything like spooning. (Not that Bull spooned anyway. It was a horns thing.) Dorian's body was stiff as a board next to him, the mage’s left arm barely touching Bull’s right. He could feel Dorian’s fist bunched up against his thigh. Dorian’s eyes were shut, but his face was taut, his expression pulled tight. Bull was certain he could hear his teeth chattering.

What was this guy’s problem? The ‘Vint was terrible at pretending he didn’t find Bull hot. Dorian had hardly been able to keep his eyes off him that morning. Bull would never force anything, particularly when Dorian was this uncomfortable. But he never understood this weird relationship humans had with sex. If you wanted someone, ask. They say no, you live with it. They say yes, you both enjoy each other. Why deny yourself something you want?

It didn’t matter. Dorian’s twisted brain was a problem for another time.

What mattered now was that they both needed some proper sleep. And neither of them were going to get it if Dorian didn’t relax.

‘Hey, Dorian?’ He said.

‘I’m trying to sleep, Bull.’ Even his voice was tight.

‘I know, but you suck at it.’

‘I never realised you were a sleep expert as well as a mercenary.’

Bull called upon his last reserve of patience. ‘Look, I think I can get us more comfortable, but it would involve moving you around a bit. You alright with that?’

The silence rolled out. Bull waited. But it seemed Dorian was at the end of his reserves too.

‘If you must.’

Bull moved carefully but quickly enough for Dorian not to change his mind. He slipped his bicep under Dorian’s head like a pillow. He curled the rest of his arm around Dorian’s shoulders. Then he placed is other hand on the small of Dorian’s back. Bull turned Dorian onto his side and pulled him close so the mage’s chest moulded against his side. Then he took Dorian’s unresisting right arm and pulled it across his own stomach.

Neither of them moved for a moment, both men considering if they were comfortable enough to tolerate the awkwardness of the position. Bull felt Dorian shift against him, then still.

‘Well. This is… bearable.’

‘You’re a man of high praise.’

Bull could feel Dorian’s heat radiating across his skin, warmer than he’d expected. He wondered vaguely if that was a magic thing.

Bull slowed his breathing. He tried not to think of the Chargers or the slavers or Par Vollen or Seheron or his mission. It was only when he vaguely realised Dorian’s breathing was in time with his own that he drifted off.

 


	12. Discedo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was going to be a longer chapter but I decided to split it. So on the downside short chapter, but on the up side new chapter either today or tomorrow.

Dorian didn’t know why the sun hated him. It obviously harboured some grudge against him. Why else would it wake him at this Maker forsaken hour?

Against his better judgement, he forced his eyes to open so that he may grind through yet another day of…

Dorian eyes registered that he was looking at the side of Iron Bull’s face.

He was sleeping next to Iron Bull.

He was sleeping half on Iron Bull.

His head was on Iron Bull’s shoulder.

His hand was on Iron Bull’s chest.

His leg had wrapped around Bull’s calf.

His… oh kaffas, he was _stiff_. And stiff right against Bull’s thigh.

He had known this was a bad idea. Why had he let Bull talk him into this?

Bull was still asleep, if his snoring was anything to judge by. Dorian, with the utmost care, lifted his hand off Iron Bull's chest. When he continued to sleep, Dorian unhooked his foot from Bull’s leg. Still asleep. So far so good. Now all Dorian needed was to unpeel himself from Bull’s side and roll away without Bull noticing he was awake—some parts more than others…

The barn door flew open. What sounded like a troupe of marauding talentless musicians stumbled inside. ‘Ser Moustache!’ one of them called. ‘Ser Horns!’

It was the children.

Maker damn it, he was in no state to have _children_ see him.

Dorian leapt up and away from Bull. He peered over the side of the hayloft, lying on his belly. Yes. All four of the children were there. The human boy was holding Bull and Dorian’s dried clothes. One of the elven girls was standing on a sheep. It didn’t seem to care. Behind Dorian, Bull grunted and smacked his lips a couple of times. The dwarven boy spotted Dorian.

‘We have your clothes, Ser Moustache!’ He exclaimed. His brother lifted them up as proof before setting them down on a nearby hay bale. ‘And Mamae says you aren’t allowed to leave without breakfast, and that you’re not allowed to argue, and that she’s packed you some food for your trip, and you’re not allowed to argue about that either, and Mère says you’d better do what she says because Mamae’s scary when she’s angry and Mamae said not to say what Mère said.’

He looked down, frowned, then nodded and looked back up.

‘Yep. That’s everything.’

‘Can you give Atisha fire again?’ Pleaded the girl standing on a sheep. ‘Please, Ser Moustache, please!’

All the children joined in the begging. Bull’s laugh rumbled behind him.

‘"Ser Moustache."’ Bull said. ‘I’m going to use that.’

‘Don’t you dare.’ Dorian hissed over his shoulder before looking back at the children below. ‘I’m not going to give her fire in a barn full of straw. Go tell your mothers we are grateful but we have to be away early and we don’t want to impose.’

The children giggled.

‘But it’s already late, Ser.’ Said the eldest boy. ‘The sun’s coming up.’

‘You don’t know much about farm life, do you?’ Bull mumbled as he sat up and crawled to look over the edge of the hayloft as well. Dorian shushed him.

‘You and Ser Horns have to hurry up!’ Said the other elf girl. ‘Breakfast is getting cold.’

‘Oh no!’ Bull shouted down with a grin. ‘If the breakfast gets cold, I’m just gonna have to eat all of you instead!’

The children squealed in delight and raced out of the barn as though Bull was on their tails.

‘Fascinating.’ Dorian said. ‘Even when you threaten to devour them, those children still adore you. It’s beyond my understanding.’

Bull clapped Dorian on the shoulder before heading towards the ladder. He started climbing down. ‘Come on ‘Vint, you heard them. Breakfast is getting cold. But you might want to take care of yourself first. Wouldn’t want to mentally scar the little ducklings by showing off your morning glory. Unless _you_ want to be “Ser Horn”.’

Dorian buried his burning face in his hands.

…

The day was warm and bright and far too pleasant considering they were still on the lam.

Breakfast had been delicious, goodbyes had been warm but not saccharine. The children hand chosen to say goodbye to Bull by tackling him all at once. Dorian hadn’t given Atisha another flame. But he had shown her how to create long strands of lighting between her fingers. She thought this was even better.

Désirée had told them that the nearest village was roughly two days walk if they headed north. She also told them the term "village" was generous, but it had a tavern at least.

Sulahn had told them to take care of each other.

Bull had hidden a few of the slaver’s trinkets in their kitchen. The women wouldn’t have accepted them if he'd just offered.

Then Dorian and Bull had left the farm and walked back out into the Tevinter wilderness.

Travel had become a whole new experience having eaten, drunk, and slept. Dorian felt invigorated, in spite of how much he hated the term “invigorated”.

Bull was walking slower, seemingly content to stroll.

‘You don’t seem too concerned about our speed, Bull.’ Dorian said. ‘We were almost recaptured last night.’

Bull shrugged. ‘If they were going to double back, they would have done it last night. I’d bet they followed the river until sunrise and then had to ride back to camp.’

Dorian frowned. ‘You don’t think they’d come back to Désirée and Sulahn’s place, do you?’

‘Nah. It’d take too long. Besides, the ladies played their part well. Perfect impression of innocent bystanders. The slavers won't even remember them.’

‘I hope you’re right.’ Dorian murmured.

The day was going to be hot again. They could feel it. The morning dew had already evaporated and a haze was developing on the horizon.

‘Are you still hoping to head to Qarinus?’ Dorian asked, trying to sound casual. Bull didn’t seem to pick up on the hesitation in his voice.

‘Depends on the next town.’ Replied Bull. ‘If they’ve got carrier pigeons, I should be able to get a message to Vyrantium. Then we could just wait at the Tavern for my boys to meet us.’

‘What about your job?’ Said Dorian. ‘It must have been lucrative for a Qunari to travel across such a hostile boarder. Or would Tal-Vashoth be more corre--‘

‘I am not fucking Tal-Vashoth.’ Bull snarled, and Dorian took a step back, hands raised.

‘Alright. Fine. My mistake. I won’t make it again.’ Bull visibly forced himself to relax.

‘Sorry. Overreacted.’ Bull said. Dorian just nodded eyes still wide at Bull’s outburst. Bull went on. ‘And yes, the job was lucrative. Good money. Can’t say more than that.’

‘You mean you can’t divulge any of the details?’ Dorian asked.

‘What sort of Merc would I be if I just blurted out all my mission details to anyone who asked?’

‘An entertaining one?’

‘Sorry, ‘Vint. I only talk about jobs after they’re finished. Got to have some discretion.’

‘If that’s how it is. Would you be willing to tell me about a job you have done, then?’

‘Oh hell yeah! You ever heard of giant baiting?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's where we say goodbye to the farmers. Thank you for all the lovely things you said about them. They were a blast to write.


	13. Carrum

‘Just a minute, let me make sure I’ve got this.’ Dorian kicked a stone out of his path. They had found the main road a few miles back. ‘Rocky is the crazy dwarf.’

‘Yep.’

‘Dalish is—conveniently enough—Dalish.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Grim is grim, Stitches stitches people, and Skinner skins people.’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Then answer me this: what’s a Krem?’

‘It’s short for Cremessius.’

‘Ah! Well… that explains it. Or at least, it’s an explanation.’

Dorian had tried to keep the conversation flowing. Smoothly. Casually. Distractingly. He asked the right questions. He made the right noises during the exciting parts. He laughed at the jokes. But Bull’s answers were getting shorter and shorter. His face less relaxed.

The limp was back.

Dorian was doing his best to ignore it. Bull was a grown man. He could take care of himself. But then Bull’s foot had skidded over a stone and Dorian heard the man stifle a grunt of pain.

‘No. That’s it. We’re stopping for a rest.’

Bull looked at Dorian incredulously. ‘You’re kidding. You can’t be tired. It’s not even midday.’

‘ _I’m_ not. _You’ve_ been limping for the last three miles.’

Bull grunted, seemingly irritated Dorian had noticed. ‘It’s fine.’

‘If it were fine, you wouldn’t be limping.’

Bull glared at Dorian. ‘It’s just an old injury. I’m handling it.’

Dorian shrugged off the pack the farmers had given him and sat by the side of the road. Bull stopped and glowered at him. ‘Seriously?’

‘I am stopping to rest.’ Dorian didn’t look at Iron Bull. Instead, he unrolled the pack and pulled out a loaf of bread. ‘I am going to have a bite to eat, a drink of water, and only then will I continue on. You can go on without me, or you can join me. It’s your choice.’

‘We don’t have time for picnics.’ Growled Bull.

‘If it were Stitches or Rocky limping, would you force them to keep marching on?’

‘That’s different.’ Bull said, not answering the question.

‘Of course it’s different.’ Dorian said around a mouthful of bread. ‘You pay their wages. They have to listen to your nonsense. I don’t. Now sit down and eat something.’

Bull’s nostrils flared, and Dorian wondered whether the man would walk on out of spite. Instead, Bull moved off the road and sat next to Dorian with a huff. He took the bread Dorian was holding and ripped off a huge chunk. He stuffed it in his mouth.

‘There. You happy?’

Dorian raised an eyebrow. ‘With such delightful companionship, how could I not be?’

Bull muttered something that sounded like “stubborn ‘Vint”. They both continued to eat in silence.

After a while, Dorian looked down at the joint in question. ‘Does you knee always give you this much pain?’ He asked.

Bull shrugged. ‘I have a leg brace Stitches made for me. The slavers took it when they got me. They weren’t keen on the idea of me having something heavy and metal wrapped around my leg. Not sure why.’ Dorian stared at him, horrified.

‘Bull, we’ve travelled over fifty miles in the last two days. Aren’t you in agony?’

‘I’ve had worse.’

'You could have said something.’

‘What good would it have done? We were running for our lives, Dorian. We didn’t have any options.’

Dorian pursed his lips. ‘I… may know some spells--‘

‘No.’

‘Bull please--'

‘No way.’

‘You’re being ridi--‘

‘My leg, my rules. The last thing I want is magic screwing my knee up even more.’

Dorian raised his eyes up to the sky. ‘You’re so obstinate.’

‘Coming from a man who sat by the side of the road and refused to move until we’d eaten.’

‘Exactly. Takes one to know one, as they say.’

Bull actually laughed at that. Behind him, further down the road, from the direction they had come, a cloud of dust had emerged on the horizon. Dorian stared at it. Somewhere in the centre of the swirl of dirt, Dorian made out the shape of a cart.

‘You think that cart’s going to the same town we are?’ He asked Bull.

‘Wouldn’t be surprised. There doesn’t seem to be much else out here.’

‘Great. We’ll ask him for a lift.’

‘What?’

‘If we catch a ride with this man, we could make it to town by this afternoon instead of tomorrow morning.’

Bull scoffed. ‘He’s not going to give us a ride.’

‘Why not?’

Bull gestured to himself and Dorian. Both of them were still covered in scrapes and bruises, and their clothes were torn and stained.

‘We look shifty as fuck.’

‘We just need a convincing cover story.’ Dorian said. The cart driver had spotted them and was beginning to slow down.

‘Like what?’

‘How about I am a merchant and you are my slave?’

‘How about you stick you head even further up your arse?’

Dorian had to admit, he should have seen that coming.

The driver pulled up beside them, and Dorian and Bull got to their feet. Two sturdy horses were out front, pulling a covered cart that was as wide as it was long. The driver, an older man with a long wispy beard and eyebrows like owl wings, looked at them with narrowed eyes. He took a pipe out of his thin, wrinkled mouth and pointed the stem at Bull and Dorian.

‘Are you bandits?’

Dorian frowned. ‘No sir. We’re heading for Castra Martis--’

‘Because if you’re bandits, you’re out of luck. This cart is full of sacks of pig dung. You may as well move along. It’s not worth your time.’

Dorian wrinkled his nose. If the smell was any indication, the man was telling the truth. Bull stepped forward.

‘We were wondering if you could give us a ride.’ He said. The driver scowled and looked over Bull’s scars and eyepatch.

‘You've seen some fights.’

‘A few.’

‘Did they ruin your sinuses?’

‘No.’

‘So you can still smell fine.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The cart-driver nodded. ‘So you fellows must be desperate if you want a lift with me.’

Bull and Dorian looked at each other. They nodded. No point in denying it. The cart-driver tapped a long, bony finger against his lips.

‘What do you two do, exactly?’

‘We’re circus performers.’ Bull said. Dorian had to stop himself from gaping at him.

The cart-driver raised his chin. ‘That so?’

‘Yep. Poor lost circus performers.’

‘Right.’ The cart-driver said, crossing his arms. ‘And what do you both do in this circus?’

‘I’m the strong man. Obviously.' Bull pointed to himself, and the cart-driver nodded his own silent "obviously". 'And Dorian’s a juggler.’

Dorian hoped Bull could feel his scowl stabbing him in the neck. The cart-driver whistled.

‘A juggler, eh?’

‘Oh yeah.’ Bull nodded. ‘You should see what this man can do with balls.’

Dorian swore to himself that he would smother Bull in his sleep for this.

The man looked Dorian up and down with a gaze that could cut glass.

‘Tell you what. You juggle for me, and I’ll give you a ride.’

Dorian’s head snapped back towards Bull, who shrugged apologetically. Dorian gritted his teeth, but forced himself to smile. He knew all about performance. His whole life had been about performance. He looked back at the cart-driver.

‘Unfortunately, I didn’t bring my balls with me.’

Bull snorted, and Dorian elbowed him. The cart-driver frowned.

‘What a pity.’

‘But I do have other acts.’ Dorian reached out for the man’s pipe. ‘May I?’

The old man looked at Dorian side-on before handing his pipe over. Whatever the man was smoking was noxious and strong. Dorian had to mentally stop himself from gagging.

He put the end of the stem in his mouth and inhaled until his lungs were full. Then he breathed in more. Holding this breath, Dorian took the pipe out and looked the man right in the eye. Dorian pulled his head back and spat forth a burst of flames like an enraged dragon. Both Bull and the man leant back in shock as the plume of fire leapt into the air and dissipated. Dorian shut his mouth and ran a hand over his moustache.

‘Pardon me. Just checking to make sure I didn’t singe anything.’

The man in the cart clapped like a child as Dorian handed him back his pipe.

‘Bravo! That was definitely worth a ride to Castra Martis. If we squish together there should be enough room for all of us in front. You could sit in the back if you wanted, but--'

‘We wouldn’t want to. We’ll take your word on that, won’t we, Bull?’

Bull didn’t respond. Dorian looked at him.

The Iron Bull’s one eye was wide. His mouth was open. And he was staring at Dorian in inexpressible wonder. Dorian clicked his fingers in front of Bull’s face. Bull blinked.

‘Huh?’

‘We can get in the cart.’

‘The cart?’ Bull paused before his memory decided to work. ‘Oh yeah. Right. Good.’

Bull climbed up. Dorian walked around to the other side, looking at Bull with a bemused expression. Bull had seen him use magic before. Hell, Bull had seen him use fire magic before. Why did Dorian’s fire breathing have him shocked?

When both of them had sat on either side of the cart-driver, he popped his pipe back into his mouth and flicked the reins. The horses began to trot along.

‘My names Celsus, by the way.’ The man smiled around his pipe. ‘So tell me what circus life is like.’


	14. Oppidum

For the next few hours, Bull and Dorian had to lie to a nice old man about what it was like to live in a circus. Fortunately, Bull was able to adapt some of his mercenary stories. It was surprising how little he had to alter to make them believable. Dorian was finding himself both impressed and terrified by Bull’s ability to lie.

‘And so this Skinner pinned his ear to the wall with a knife?’ Celsus roared with laughter, which was fortunate. If Celsus had been a different sort of person—one with a capacity for revulsion, for example—the story wouldn’t have been an amusing anecdote. It would have been confessing to a felony.

‘Yep, while he was still attached.’

Celsus doubled over, and Dorian grabbed the reins so they didn’t veer off the road. It was the fifth time he’d had to do so during the trip.

Bull slapped Celsus on the back and laughed with him. ‘That’s why you never piss off a knife-thrower by calling them a knife-ear!’ Celsus bellowed again. Tears were streaming down his face. Dorian worried Bull was going to give him a heart attack.

Up ahead, a thicket came to an end, revealing the long-awaited town. If the farmers hadn't warned Dorian the town was small, he would have assumed this wasn’t it. Castra Martis wasn’t a town. It was a street. A short street. In the centre of the town was the tavern everyone had talked about. Its name was The Boring Cleric. It had a picture of said Cleric looking bored on its sign. The tavern was bigger than all the other buildings, but not by much.

Yet for a small settlement, there seemed to be a lot of people wandering up and down. The town’s single street was full of stalls and carts, parked almost in the middle of the road. A throng of people wandered through the main street, chatting and giggling at the wares on offer.

‘There seem to be more people in town than there’s room for.’ Remarked Dorian. Celsus nodded.

‘This is the trading outpost around these parts.’ Celsus said, taking the reins back from Dorian. ‘All the farmers and craftsmen for a hundred and fifty miles come here to sell. Most come for the day, sell, buy, and head home. Only a handful of people live here all the time. Besides the blacksmith's and the tavern, most of the buildings are boarding houses. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding a room. Even you big guy.’ Celsus elbowed Bull in the side and winked.

Celsus tugged on the reins as they entered the town limit. The horses slowed to a trot, then a walk as the cart entered the crowd of people. Everyone parted way for the cart to move through—though the smell might have helped. Then, for no reason Dorian could discern, Celsus stopped the cart. He looked around and nodded.

‘Yes. This is a good spot. Hey, strong man, lend me a hand to get these sacks out of the cart. I want to sell half of it before sundown.’

‘You’re selling pig shit?’ Dorian asked incredulously. Celsus threw the same look back at him while Bull jumped out of the cart.

‘I’m not carting it around for my health!’ The old man hopped down. Dorian could now see that he was only half Bull’s height. Any shorter and Dorian could have mistaken him for a dwarf. ‘Farmers buy it. Best fertilizer this side of the Nocen Sea. This stuff is worth its weight in gold. Literally.’

‘Oh.’ said Dorian, still unconvinced. ‘Would you like me to--’

‘I’ve got this, Dorian.’ Said Bull, walking around the back of the cart. Dorian jumped down and followed him. ‘Why don’t you go and see about finding us a room.’ Bull handed Dorian the bag of trinkets. Dorian looked at the pouch, then back up at Bull.

‘Seems unfair that you get saddled with the dirty work while I look for accommodation.’

‘It’s fine. I don’t mind. Besides, it'll be easier for you to find a room by yourself. Whenever I ask about rooms, everywhere seems to have “mysteriously” filled up.’

Dorian was appalled by this, but didn’t argue. ‘I’ll look for supplies, too. What Désirée and Sulahn gave us will only last a couple of days.’

‘Good idea. After I’ve finished here, I’ll go see if this town has a postmaster. I want to see if I can get in touch with “the circus”. Meet you in the tavern after sunset?’

‘Excellent plan.’ Said Dorian, walking backward through the crowd. ‘But do take some time when you’re done to have some sort of wash. I doubt the other tavern patrons will appreciate the fine aroma of swine excrement as much as we do.’

Bull laughed, and Dorian made his way into the crowd.

...

It didn’t take long to unpack Celsus’ sacks. The man was not wrong. Farmers were buying the stuff almost as soon as Bull hauled it off the cart. When it was empty, Bull said his goodbyes to Celsus. The old man was sitting at the back of his cart, counting his gold.

‘I think I should warn you, lad.’ The old man said in a steady voice. ‘Some people around here aren’t as friendly as I am. They may have… attitudes.’

Bull nodded. He knew what Celsus meant. ‘I can deal with attitudes. I’ve done it before.’

Celsus looked Bull up and down. ‘Yeah, I bet. You look like know how to take care of yourself. Only an idiot would want to start something with a circus strong-man, anyway.’

Bull chuckled. ‘You’ve got that right. You know if this place has a postmaster?’

‘Right at the end of the street, across from the well.’ Celsus pointed the way. ‘You and the fire-spitter take care, you hear.’

‘We will. Hope everyone buys your shit.’ Bull called over his shoulder. He heard Celsus chuckle as he walked away.

It took twice as long as it should have to get to the other side of town. Even then, Bull thought that he only made it because people naturally got out of his way. Trying to walk through the crowd was like trying to wade through porridge.

When he did get there and opened the door a tiny woman, older than time itself, peered up at him from behind a counter. She looked startled at first, but then Bull smiled. No matter their age, almost all ladies enjoyed it when Bull smiled.

‘I was hoping to send a bird to Vyrantium, ma’am.’ He said. The world's tiniest postmistress pulled out a quill, an inkwell, and a small slip of paper.

‘Just write what you need to here, dear, and I’ll send it off straight away.’

Bull thanked her and winked. The old woman tittered and went around to the back of the store. Bull wished Dorian was here so he could rub it in the ‘Vint’s face and say “See! I told you. The wink is dashing.”

Bull dipped his quill in the inkwell. He wrote as small as he could on the thin strip of paper the woman had provided.

_Krem. It’s Bull. Not dead. Caught by slavers but escaped with ‘Vint mage. In town called Castra Martis. Will wait here for reply unless something goes wrong. Respond ASAP. Horns Up._

Bull rolled up the message as the postmistress entered the room holding a mottled pigeon in one hand. Bulled handed her the strip and she slipped it into the silver cylinder tied to the bird’s leg.

‘How long until we know if the message got through?’

‘You were sending this to Vyrantium?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Five days at most. Maybe less.’ The old woman noticed Bull’s frown. She squeezed Bull’s hand. ‘Cheer up, dear. My birds are the best. They know where to go.’

‘This could be a long shot. I’m not even certain the man I’m writing to is in Vyrantium.’

‘Oh that doesn’t matter. Not with my birds. They always get the message to the right person.’

Bull smiled and the woman shuffled off again, but it faltered when she was gone. How was a pigeon meant to know where to go if the sender didn’t? Was this old woman some sort of bird-mage? Or was she a little crazy? It didn’t matter. It wasn't like Bull had any other options. But five days was a long time to wait, and there would be no chance of getting to Qarinus before the deadline. He patted his pocket, looking for the gold he’d set aside to pay the postmistress.

That’s when he saw the poster.

On it, below a large heading that said ‘Missing’, was Dorian face. A front-on portrait and then profile. Whoever the artist was, they had captured his likeness well. They’d even remembered the beauty mark next to his right eye. It didn't capture any of Dorian’s expression or movement though, so it was only half as pretty as the real thing.

Bull leant down and read the words.

_Wanted Alive. Substantial Reward. Approach With Caution. Expert Mage. Contact the Pavus Estate with Any Information._

The door behind him creaked open again. Bull snatched the poster off the wall and folded it up as small as possible. It would be tight but the poster would fit into one of those message cylinders. He turned around and smiled down at the postmistress again.

‘Thank you for your help ma’am.’ He said, and handed her the gold. ‘Also, how much is it to send a pigeon to Qarinus?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is dedicated to all the people kind enough to review, but in particular those who have been asking when the metaphorical shit would begin to hit the proverbial fan.


	15. Sataam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just a heads up. Things are not going to be officially flushed down the toilet yet, so if you were expecting a big blow-out this chapter you'll be dissapointed. But we are building up to it. Don't worry. When the time is right the fallout will begin.

Iron Bull’s afternoon had been… weird. 

After he had sent his second message, Bull decided to take Dorian’s advice and go clean off. It surprised him that such a small town managed to have a bath house, but he wasn’t going to complain. Another surprise was how empty it was. There was no one inside besides couple of middle-aged men talking business and an elven woman who handed out towels. Bull stripped off his pants, harness, and boots in the entrance area and placed them on one of the box-shelves provided. Bull looked at his axe. He looked around the room, shrugged, and set it in the corner. Satisfied, he grabbed a towel and made his way through the bathing rooms. 

The rooms all gradually increased in temperature, starting with a cold bath and ending in a steaming sauna. He took the time to sit back in each room and let the vapours do their work. By the time he got out, he was feeling refreshed and relaxed. The ache in his knee had subsided. Even the invisible fist that had squeezed his innards from the moment he'd seen that poster loosened its grip. 

But then he couldn’t find his left boot. 

Or his pants. 

His right boot was on the shelf (his letters inside, still untouched). His harness was too, which was worth far more than his boot or his pants. His axe hadn't been touched either. 

He looked at the other boxed sections of the shelves. Not there. 

‘Can I help you, Ser?’ Asked the elf, who had been eyeing him while he had searched the shelves. Bull suspected she wanted to hurry the Qunari out of the bath house as soon as she could. 

‘Yeah, have you seen my boot and pants? I left them right here.’ The elf scanned his shelf and found that, yes both items were gone. He wasn’t lying. Maybe she thought he’d been looking with his left eye or something. 

‘No I haven’t, Ser.’ She frowned. ‘Could you have misplaced them in one of the other rooms?’ 

‘I don’t think so.’ Bull said. ‘I got changed here and I didn’t take anything with me.’ 

They went through all the rooms anyway, double checking every corner. The elf even let Bull go around back and help her search through some of their “lost and found” items. 

Nothing. 

Bull was starting to consider how people would react to a Qunari wandering their streets wearing nothing but a towel. 

He re-entered the Baths’ changing area. Dorian was there, stripped down to his leggings and tugging off his not-stolen boots. 

‘Iron Bull.’ Dorian smile was just a little too wide. ‘Decided against smelling like a pig sty?’ 

‘Yeah.’ Bull frowned, his mind snapping back to that wanted poster. He pushed the thought away for now. There was no reason to dwell on it until the bird from Qarinus returned. 

When it arrived, it would prove Bull’s theory right or wrong, and he could plan his next move from there. 

‘You may want to take your clothes with you. Someone stole my pants and one of my boots.’ 

Dorian tilted his head. ‘They stole your what?’ 

‘You heard.’ 

‘Are you sure you looked hard enough?’ 

‘One of the servants and I searched everywhere. They’re gone.’ 

‘Can I look?’ 

‘Be my guest.’ 

Bull led Dorian over to the shelf where he’d put his clothes. Dorian gave Bull a weary look and pulled out Bull’s pants and both his boots. 

‘You sure you don’t need two eyepatches?’ Dorian asked. Bull took his boots and pants. 

‘I looked!’ 

Dorian raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure.’ 

‘I did! So did the elf woman.’ 

‘No need to make your excuses to me, Bull. I’ll take your word for it.’ Dorian said, leaving Bull so he could continue to undress. Bull looked at the clothes in his hands and looked back at Dorian. 

That man should play cards. 

Dorian was good. But he didn’t know Bull was Ben-Hassrath. Dorian had no idea how outclassed he was when it came to deception. But for someone without any training, Dorian was an expert liar. 

Bull was still impressed, hours later, when he was sitting back in one of The Boring Cleric’s chairs. He drinking some sort of spicy cider and ignoring the scowls directed at him from a table in the corner. Impressed but baffled. Why would Dorian steal his pants and one boot? 

Dorian entered. 

His clothes were different. 

The only clothes Bull had seen Dorian in so far had been the robes the slavers had caught him in. They looked like they had once been expensive: well-tailored from fine materials. 

But the road had not been kind to them, leaving them torn, stained and barely holding together. 

What Dorian was wearing now was completely different. On his legs he had a pair of pants made out of some sort of soft leather. Practical but form fitting. The bizarre top he had worn, the one with too many inexplicable buckles and shiny bits, was gone too. Instead Dorian wore a simple white cotton shirt. It was loose fitting, the collar open at his bare neck. Over that he wore a long, dark brown coat, which reached down to his calves. He was carrying his pack slung over his shoulder. It looked heavier than it had that morning. 

The only things that had stayed the same were his boots. 

Bull had to admit, Dorian looked good. 

What he actually said when Dorian came and sat at his table was ‘Please tell me you didn't blow all our money on fancy clothes.’ 

Dorian sighed but smiled. ‘No, Mother Bull, I was frugal. Besides it wasn’t just myself I was buying for. I’ve got something for you, too.’ 

‘What?’ 

Dorian rummaged through his pack and unfurled a pair of pants. Same cut and style as the ones Bull was wearing. But these looked less like a pack of Mabari had shredded them to pieces. Bull chuckled and took them from Dorian. The material was soft but seemed durable. 

‘I knew you had stolen my pants.’ Dorian shrugged but didn’t deny it. 

‘You were the one who said we looked—and I quote verbatim—“shifty as fuck”. I thought it may be wise to make ourselves look less like runaway slaves.’ 

Bull nodded. ‘Dorian this… this is too thoughtful.’ 

‘It was nothing.’ 

‘No, I mean it was too thoughtful for you. What’s the catch?’ 

Dorian laughed at that. Bull found himself oddly pleased. 

‘If I had an ulterior motive, I would have bought you far less hideous pants. That way I wouldn’t feel so embarrassed to be seen with you in public. Or a shirt! Imagine that!’ 

‘Hey, you don’t want to deprive the world of this view.’ Bull said. One of the bar maids came over. She gave Dorian a tankard before refilling Bull’s. Bull smirked at her. She blushed before retreating. Dorian rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

‘What did you steal the boot for?’ Asked Bull, tucking the pants into his own pack. ‘Or was that just to mess with my head a bit more?’ 

Dorian beamed and reached back into his pack. He withdrew a heavy metallic object and placed it on the table with a thunk. Bull’s smirk faltered. 

‘Is that--‘ 

‘It probably isn’t as well-made as your original.’ Dorian was pointedly not looking at him. His tone was light but forced. ‘The blacksmith didn’t have much time. And without you there, sitting for measurements, she had to do a little guesswork. But she said it should do the job--‘ 

‘You got me a leg brace?’ Bull took the brace off the table and turned it over in his hands. 

‘Well, yes?’ Said Dorian. His smile was lopsided. ‘We can’t have you hobbling your way across Tevinter, now can we?’ 

Bull could feel the weight of it. It was a good, strong metal. Maybe silverite? Dorian was right, his lost one had been better, but this one was certainly not bad. For a brace made in an afternoon, it was amazing. And while it wasn’t the same quality as his original, this one was new. No rusty hinges. No worn-down leather padding. Bull tried to say something, but common seemed to have abandoned him. 

‘Are you going to try it on, or leave me suspense?’ Asked Dorian. Bull collected enough of himself to nod. 

It felt weird, once on, but Bull had gotten new braces before. They all felt weird until you got used to them. He stood and walked across the tavern, turned around and walked back to the table. Dorian leant his arm over the back of his chair. 

‘Any good?’ He asked. 

‘Yeah. Real good.’ Bull said. ‘Works well.’ But that’s when the unsettling thought hit Bull. ‘How did you pay for this?’ 

Dorian coughed and turned back to the table. ‘It wasn't as much as you’d suspect.’ 

‘Dorian--' 

‘We had enough for supplies as well. Don’t worry, Bull, I didn’t spend every last penny.’ 

‘Let me see the pouch.’ 

Dorian sighed and tossed the pouch at Bull. It was lighter but still had plenty of trinkets in it. More trinkets than there should have been after buying food, clothes, and the brace. 

Bull looked down at Dorian, who was looking at his tankard. Absently Dorian rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. 

His bare neck. 

‘Where’s your master’s family crest?’ Bull asked. Dorian groaned. 

‘It doesn’t matter. Can’t we sit down and enjoy a quiet drink?’ 

‘Dorian, you almost pissed yourself with relief when I gave that thing back to you--‘ 

‘Delightful description--‘ 

‘You said that your master would be happier to get that thing back than he would be to see you.’ 

Dorian glowered. ‘I remember, Bull.’ 

‘And what will your master do to you when he finds out you don’t have it?’ 

Dorian giggled. ‘I suspect I’ll have bigger problems in that scenario.’ 

Bull grunted and pulled Dorian to his feet. ‘We’re getting it back. Right now.’ 

Dorian pushed Bull’s hand off him. ‘Bull, you’re being ludicrous.’ 

‘You’re not going to get into trouble on my account.’ 

Dorian smiled, but it wasn’t altogether happy. 

‘I used to say the exact same thing to a friend of mine. He’d always reply “I like trouble.”’ 

‘Dorian--‘ 

‘Bull,’ Dorian interrupted, ‘the leg brace is a necessity. The crest isn’t. We can’t afford to be precious about baubles.’ 

Bull saw that Dorian was right. He grunted in frustration. ‘It would have been nice if you’d asked first.’ 

‘If I had asked, you would have said no.’ Dorian replied. He picked up the tankards from the table. ‘I am going to get a refill. Spare the poor barmaid from spontaneously combusting with her wanton desires for you.’ 

Bull grinned before he could help it, and Dorian walked past him towards the bar. He sat down again before looking at his leg brace. He extended his leg, brought it back, and swung it out again. It worked well. Didn’t pinch or rub. 

Bull looked over at Dorian, who was chatting to the barman. Even from this distance Bull heard the barman chuckle at one of Dorian’s jokes. Dorian knew how to turn on the charm. 

Bull drummed his fingers on the table. The damn poster was still gnawing at him like a rat in his stomach. There was no doubt that Dorian was the man in that picture. Bull had felt his story about being a letter-boy was off from the start. The poster just proved that. Dorian had been on the run long before the slavers had grabbed him. But just because Dorian was “Missing”, it didn’t mean that he was the same guy the magister in Qarinus wanted to him to find. After all, what were the odds of that? Stumbling by accident into the one guy in all of Tevinter he was being paid to look for? Far more likely that Dorian was a Laetan scribe who one day had enough of his master, stole the family’s crest, and ran for it. 

Right? 

At least that’s what Bull was hoping. Because if Dorian was the man in the magister’s letter, he was in deep shit. 

They both were. 

Bull groaned and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. What was taking Dorian so damn long with the drinks? Maybe he should go over and lend a-- 

A large, serrated knife stabbed into the table, inches away from Bull’s drumming fingers. 

Bull looked up. The six men from the corner table were crowded around him. It seemed they didn’t appreciate their scowls being ignored.


	16. Praelium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter: Racism, violence, references to rape, references to murder, references to dehumanisation, flashbacks that could be seen as PTSD, and bad eyebrows. Most of these are in passing but if you are triggered I would skip anything in italics and what Mr Eyebrows says.

Bull leant back in his chair and grinned. This only made the men circling his table glare more.

‘Can I help you, gentlemen?’

The “gentleman” standing directly across the table from Bull sneered. He had a lean face with thick, dark eyebrows. The perfect face for marathon scowling sessions.

‘I owe you gold, Balbus.’ He clapped the stocky man beside him on the shoulder.’ You were right. The ox-man can talk. What are the odds?’ The other men sniggered.

‘You’re a funny guy.’ Said Bull. He kept his voice level—no aggression, but no placation. Nothing the other man could use as an excuse to start something. ‘Can I buy you and your friends a drink?’

The eyebrow man frowned. He put his hands on the table and leaned forward. ‘You think we’d accept anything from a filthy Qunari like you?’

Bull shrugged. ‘It would depend on how much you wanted a free drink, I would think.’

The man pursed his thin lips. ‘What are you doing in Tevinter, ox-man? Are you a spy? An assassin? You come he to rape and murder our women?’

_He has the Tevinter soldier by the neck and he is squeezing. The veins in the ‘Vint’s eyes are bursting. His hands claw at Bull’s wrist, desperate to break his grip. His lips are moving. Only broken gasps escape his throat. It doesn’t matter. Bull knows the ‘Vint is begging for mercy. The dead girl on the floor probably begged this soldier for mercy too._

Bull's eyes flicked to the man's neck. He tilted his head.

'I came here for the weather. And to get to know the delightful locals such as yourself.’

Okay, he may have let some aggression slip through that time.

The eyebrow man tugged the knife out of the table. He waved the blade inches away from Bull’s face. The Iron Bull didn’t flinch.

‘I wonder how clever you’ll be, Qunari, once we’ve cut out your tongue. Then we could yoke you to a cart and make you work the fields like the mindless beast you are. See how long we could get you to drag a plough until you buckle under its weight.’

_Grab his wrist.  Slam it on the table. Break the carpal bones. Snatch the knife before the two behind me have time to hit me over the back of the head. Axe is on the floor. Can’t grab it in time. Knew I should have put it on the table. My chair is sturdy. Good improvised bludgeon. Could take both of them out at once. No way of knowing what weapons the other three have--_

‘You hear me, ox-man?’ Eyebrows snarled. ‘We’ll whip you until your back bleeds. We’ll--‘

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. Dorian’s fist slammed into the man’s jaw so hard Bull heard something crunch. Eyebrows collapsed back across the table. The knife skittered across the floor. His head lolled on his neck for a moment, his eyes unfocused. Then he blacked out.

Bull stared at Dorian.

Dorian stared at Bull.

The Boring Cleric erupted into chaos.

The stocky man screamed in rage. He flew at Dorian, fists flailing. Bull jumped to his feet and grabbed the man’s hair. He slammed his head against the table. His limp body sank to the floor.

Dorian had already spun around, kneeing another thug in the gut. One of the others grabbed Dorian in a choke-hold from behind. Dorian gasped, his air cut off, his legs kicking.

_The ‘Vint soldier is thrashing now. Bull can’t tell if he’s still struggling. There's a good chance is body is just convulsing involuntarily. His bloodshot eyes roll back in their sockets. His hands lose purchase on Bull’s arms._

_‘Hissrad? You done?’ A sten behind him hisses._

_The ‘Vint slumps, boneless in Bull’s grip. He kind of looks like a rabbit once you’ve snapped its neck. Bull lets the body drop._

_‘Yeah. I’m done.’_

Bull snarled and seized his chair. He whirled it up and over his shoulder in a huge arch. It crashed against Dorian’s assailant, smashing apart. He dropped to the floor, dragging Dorian down with him. Bull tried to get around the table. To get to Dorian. Someone punched Bull in the stomach. He punched back. A nose cracked. Blood covered Bull’s knuckles.

There was a shriek from the floor.

‘Dorian!’ Bull bellowed. He shoved the guy with the broken nose out of his way.

A man leapt up from the floor clutching his face. A smell like burnt pork hit Bull. Dorian stood, his hand engulfed in fire. Hair fell over his forehead, into his eyes. His lip was split. He looked in pain. But he looked more pissed.

‘Bull, look out!’ Dorian shouted.

Bull turned. Another man was charging towards him, swinging a club over his head. Bull ducked. The man ran straight into Bull’s head-butt. Bull grabbed his thighs and bucked upwards. The man flipped over Bull’s horns and crashed to the floor.

Dorian stood there and gaped like a fish on a sandbank.

‘ _Run!_ ’ Bull yelled. Dorian grabbed his pack and staff and sprinted for the tavern door. Bull kicked one of the guys on the floor. He grabbed his axe and tore after Dorian.

The street was quiet, but the noise from the tavern had drawn a few onlookers. A crowd was growing. Dorian jostled a few out of the way. He looked behind him to see that Bull was following, but didn’t slow down. Bull raced ahead, coming level with Dorian.

‘You alright?’ Bull said. Dorian nodded. He was breathing harder than he should have been.

‘Shouldn’t have paid for our rooms in advance.’

‘Forget it. Nothing we can do now.’ Bull looked behind him. Some of their “drinking buddies” were stumbling out of the tavern. ‘Aw shit.’

‘You think they’ve spotted us?’

Somewhere behind them someone shouted ‘There they are, the bastards!’

‘Yep.’ Said Bull. Dorian and Bull sped up.

‘You think we can hide?’ Dorian asked.

‘Where?’ Said Bull. ‘There’s only one street.’

‘Well, we’d better figure out something. Most people I know aren’t partial to having half their face seared off.’

Something caught Bull’s eye. He stopped mid run. Dorian skidded to a halt and ran back to him.

‘Bull, they’re coming--’

‘Aren’t they beautiful?’ Bull asked. Dorian looked in the direction Bull was staring.

There were six horses tied outside one of the boarding houses. Tall, healthy animals with shiny coats and long manes. The idiots who owned them had either forgotten to unsaddle them, or just didn’t care.

‘Oh, so we’re adding grand theft equus to tonight’s assortment of felonies, are we?’ Dorian said. ‘What joy.’

‘I call the black one!’ Said Bull as he ran towards the horses.

‘You mean the archdemon masquerading as a horse?’ Dorian said, running after him. ‘Of course. By all means, take that one. I’m sure it hasn’t trampled anyone to death for at least a week.’

Bull ignored him, untying all the horses from the post. He shoved his foot into the stirrup and slung himself over the horse’s back. Normally, Bull looked too large on horseback. The first time Dalish had seen him ride a horse, she'd descended into a fit of cackling that lasted twenty minutes. But this stallion was huge. If someone had asked the maker himself to design a horse for the Iron Bull, this horse would have been it. Dorian clambered onto the back of a mottled-brown gelding. It shook its head and gave a low whinny. Dorian stroked its neck.

‘Why did you free the other horses?’ He asked Bull. Noise was bubbling up the street towards them. The men from the tavern were shouting again. But there were more than six voices. It sounded like they had found some more people to join their little anti-Qunari mob. A chant was beginning to take shape.

_‘Kill the ox! Kill the ox! Kill the ox!’_

Dorian’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘Well, that’s _charming_.’

Bull pulled on his horse’s reins and steered it closer to one of the others. He slapped the animal’s rump, hard. The creature reared and brayed, frightening the other rider-less horses. Bull slapped again. This time it bucked and ripped down the street, the others charging behind it. There was a screech as the horses ran into the crowd, scattering people as they dove out of the way.

‘Can you ride better than you can swim?’ Asked Bull. Dorian raised his chin.

‘I’ve been riding horses since I could walk, Iron Bull. Don’t feel embarrassed to ask for some tips.’

Bull laughed. He turned his horse the other direction and snapped the reins. He galloped away, Dorian following close behind. The shouts of Castra Martis faded into the night.


	17. Asaaranda

They had ridden all night.

Dorian hadn’t been lying to Bull when he’d boasted about his horsemanship. He felt at ease on horseback. Far more at ease than he ever did on a boat or even in a carriage. Dorian liked the sense of control holding a pair of reins gave him. It was liberating. For the first few hours, while they'd galloped their way across the countryside, Dorian had felt a bizarre sense of elation and nostalgia. He couldn’t articulate it. Was it the rush of their escape? The freedom of dashing along an open road? Maybe the whole scenario was reminiscent of those swashbuckling novels he’d adored as a boy? Dorian didn’t know and didn’t care. All he knew was that he wanted to burst into laughter. He stopped himself, of course.  He didn’t want Iron Bull to think he’d lost his mind.

Still, for the first time in months, Dorian felt exhilarated.

But by sunrise, Dorian was struggling to keep his head up. More than once, he found himself swaying in his saddle or adjusting his direction.  Twice he almost steered his poor gelding off the road.

It was just before daybreak that Dorian almost slipped sideways off his horse. Bull caught him by the shoulder just in time.

'That's it. We're taking a break.'

‘Bull, I’m fine. We should keep going.’

Bull kept his arm around Dorian’s shoulders. He pulled the horse’s reins from Dorian’s grip with his other hand. Dorian didn’t resist. ‘The only way we could keep going is if you tied yourself to the horse. Half an hour won’t kill us.’

‘It may kill you. They weren’t baying for my blood at that little inbred town.’

‘They’re not following us. They’d have caught up by now if they were. Anyway Commander and Honeysuckle need a rest too.’

‘What?’

‘The horses.’

‘No. Certainly not. Name your horse whatever you wish. But I refuse to let you call my beautiful steed “Honeysuckle”.’

‘Don’t be stupid. Honeysuckle’s my horse.’

Bull steered both their mounts off the road and into a small clearing. He pulled them to a stop. Bull leaped down and walked round to Dorian’s side. Dorian was halfway through dismounting when Bull seized him by the waist and lifted him off the horse. Dorian suppressed a yelp as Bull planted his feet on the ground, not letting go until he was sure Dorian was steady.

Dorian huffed. ‘I am fully capable of dismounting a horse without help, Iron Bull.’

‘Just making sure you didn’t fall flat on your pretty face, big guy.’ Bull said. ‘Wouldn’t want it to take any more damage.’

Bull reached up and dragged his knuckle lightly under the split in Dorian’s lip.

Dorian wasn’t sure if Bull had meant to do it or whether it was an unconscious movement.  Dorian’s mouth opened a fraction. He stopped, cleared his throat, and stepped away from Bull.

‘We should unsaddle the horses,’ he said. Bull nodded but didn’t reply.

They stripped Commander and Honeysuckle of their bridles and saddles, and set them to graze. Bull and Dorian sat next to each other in the wet grass and began to eat. The bread was beginning to go stale. But the dried meat was still good, and Dorian had managed to get his hands on some fresh fruit in Castra Martis. Bull bit into an apple, letting the juice trickle down his chin. Dorian did his best not to look at it.

‘You’re quiet.’ Bull said glancing over in Dorian’s direction. ‘Your neck okay?’

Dorian raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’

‘Oh I don’t know,’ Bull said around a piece of apple. ‘Maybe I just imaged you getting your head stuck in a choke hold last night.’

Dorian waved his hand. ‘The night before that it was grazed by an arrow while we fled across a freezing river. And the one before I was wearing a slave collar. It’s sad to say, but my neck has seen a lot worse this week than a haphazard choke hold.’

Bull looked over at Dorian’s neck. The bruises and cuts still stood out against Dorian’s skin. Dorian thought he saw Bull’s fingers twitch on his apple.

‘It’s been a rough trip, hasn’t it?’

‘It certainly has. Strange to think we’ve only known each other for, what? Three days? Four?’

‘Yeah.’ Bull said. ‘It’s weird when you put it like that.’

The sun was lifting over the horizon, staining the sky a vibrant red. Dorian tried to remember the saying his nanny had taught him when he was little.

_Red sky at night, shepherds’ delight._

_Red sky in morning, shepherds’ warning._

‘We’re going to get a storm.’ Bull muttered. Dorian didn’t ask how he was so certain. He just nodded.

‘We’re going to have to find somewhere to shelter.’ Dorian replied.

‘If we can.’ Bull took another bite of apple.

...

They sat silently, nibbling away at their food, eyes on the ominous sky and their grazing horses. The quiet broke when Dorian started to laugh.

Bull looked over at him. ‘What?’

‘There’s a pigeon sitting on your horns.’

Bull rolled his eye up. Perched near the base of his right horn was a fat, pure white pigeon. It was preening its feathers and had a silver cylinder attached to one leg.

‘You’ve got to be shitting me.’

‘What?’

‘I sent a messenger pigeon to the Chargers yesterday. There’s no way it could have gotten to Vyrantium and back in a day. And how the hell did the bird know where I was going to be? _I_ didn’t know where I was going to be.’

‘Some form of location rune etched onto the cylinder would be my guess.’ Dorian sounded bored. Only a ‘Vint could find magic boring, Iron Bull thought. If Par Vollen knew about this type of magic, the ways they could use it would be enormous. Tracking down Tal-Vashoth. Locating hidden enemies in the jungle. But no. Here in Tevinter, they used it for _mail_.

‘You’ll have to send another message back to them now, I suppose.’ Dorian said. ‘Let them know we’re no longer in that backwater Castra Martis.’

‘Yeah. I didn’t think of that. My boys will be pissed when they get there and find out we’ve already left.’

Bull reached up with a steady hand and wrapped his hands around the pigeon’s wings. It didn’t struggle or peck at his fingers. It was obviously used to the process. Dorian wiped his hands on his pants and stood.

‘We should get moving. I’ll go collect the horses while you deal with the bird.’

He didn’t wait for Bull to agree. He wandered towards the horses, making soft clicking noises with his tongue. Bull’s eye followed him for a moment, but then it turned back to the pigeon. His mouth felt dry. Carefully, he turned the bird belly up towards him and unscrewed the cylinder’s lid.

‘Please be the boys.’ He found himself whispering as he drew the piece of paper out. He unrolled it, one handed.

It wasn’t the boys.

It was the magister.

The message read:

_Yes, that’s him on the poster. You’ve outdone yourself, Iron Bull. You’ve succeeded in your mission before I officially hired you. That must be a record. You can name your price once you and Dorian reach Qarinus unharmed. I am indebted to you and your men._

The pigeon gave a squawk. Bull realised he had started to squeeze it. He let it go and the bird flapped off, all indignation.

Without a sound, Bull slid the strip of paper into his boot.

…

Dorian had hoped they’d have until midday to find somewhere to hide from the storm. They didn’t have that luck. As soon as they had re-saddled their mounts, Dorian had felt the first fat drops of rain hit his cheek. From that moment on it hadn’t stopped.

Dorian could handle a little rain. This wasn’t rain. This wasn’t even a storm. This was a torrential downpour. They may as well have been swimming. Dorian wondered if there was a chance they could drown. The rain buffeted Dorian and Bull, sharp and stinging. The wind whipped against their skin like a series of physical slaps.

The horses were struggling. Every step they took was a battle. Water kept pelting into their eyes. It was near impossible for the poor animals to see, let alone their riders. Dorian had tried to conjure a barrier to block out the rain, but that just spooked the horses more. So he’d let the magic dissipate and rode on.

Maybe carriages had their perks after all.

Over the sound of the gale and the deluge, Dorian thought he heard Bull’s voice. Dorian turned to look at Bull. He was cupping his mouth and shouting something at Dorian.

‘What?!’ Dorian yelled back. Even through the rain, Dorian saw Bull roll his eye.

Bull cupped his hands again. ‘I said--!‘

I fork of blue lightning shattered the sky, striking the ground a hundred feet away. It barely missed a lone olive tree. The horses reared and shrieked in terror. Bull pulled tight on his reins, trying to keep Honeysuckle from charging off. Dorian ran his hand over Commander’s neck, shushing the horse while it shook its head and brayed.

Dorian looked over at the scorched grass where the lightning had struck. The spared olive tree reached and twisted in the wind, as though it was as panicked as the horses.

The olive tree…

Dorian knew that olive tree.

Suddenly the bizarre mix of excitement and nostalgia Dorian had felt began to make sense.

‘Bull!’ He yelled, steering his horse toward the Qunari. ‘I know where we are!’

‘What?!’

Thunder rolled directly overhead. It felt like the Maker himself was shouting at them. Dorian tried again.

‘I KNOW where we ARE! I’ve seen that TREE BEFORE!’

Bull cupped his ear and shook his head. Dorian growled and pointed at himself.

‘FOLLOW ME!’

Dorian didn’t wait to see if Bull had heard him this time. He spurred his horse forwards, as fast as the rain would allow. He looked behind him. Bull was following.

How long had it been? Years. Before Alexius had taken him under his wing, Dorian was sure about that. He must have still been a child, the last time he was here. Maker, what a depressing thought. Dorian wasn’t certain he was going to be able to remember the way, and this downpour wasn’t helping. But then he saw the rock that looked like a bear. Then the ditch where he’d once seen a dead goat. He’d cried for hours over that stupid animal, until his father had given him a stern look and told him enough.

Up ahead, he saw the point where there was a path shooting off from the main road. It wound up towards the top of a hill through a long avenue of cypress trees. He urged his horse up that path. Another roll of thunder rumbled above them. This road was muddier than the main one. Dorian could feel his horse’s hooves slip and stagger in the slick muck.

‘Almost there, boy.’ He whispered to himself as much as the horse. ‘Were almost there.’

As they rounded the tree, the building came into view. It looked so bleak in the storm. Maybe it just felt that way with no people around, locked up tight for the winter. Or maybe Dorian’s nostalgia was clouding his memory. The rain blasted against the ceramic roof tiles and rendered walls. As far as he could cast his memory back, he could not remember one time he’d ever seen this building in the rain.

Bull moved up beside Dorian, his mouth slightly ajar.

‘How’d you know about this place?!’

‘It’s my summer home.’ Dorian said. He swallowed, noticing his slip-up. Bull yelled back over the wind.

‘What!?’

‘It’s my master’s summer home!’ Dorian shouted back. ‘Let’s get inside!’


	18. Osculum

Honeysuckle and Commander had been easy to unsaddle and brush down. Dorian had the feeling they were just grateful to be in the sable and out of the storm. He left them to demolish a trough full of oats and lead Bull inside the house where he’d spend the summers of his childhood.

The atrium had seen a few changes since he’d been here last. He remembered his mother mentioning something about it. He hadn't paid much attention. It was back when she was still pretending everything was normal. Pretending her son wasn’t being kept at the Qarinus estate against his will. The mosaic on the main wall had been re-tiled. When he’d last been here, the mosaic was a family portrait. His father had been on the right. His mother on the left. And then there he was, given pride of place in the centre. Now the wall bore the image of a deer hunt. Two men (inexplicably naked) were attacking the terrified animal. One held the struggling creature by the antler. The other was frozen mid-swing, ready to bring a club down on the buck's head.

Dorian hated it.

But at least it meant he avoided an awkward conversation with Bull. He'd had no idea how he planned to explain why he was in the middle of his master’s family portrait.

‘Does your master know there is a huge fucking hole in his roof?’ Bull asked, looking at the skylight above them. Water was cascading through the gap and landing in the shallow pool built beneath. On a sunny day, the opening flooded the room with natural light. Today, it created interior waterfall.

‘It’s meant to be like that. The pool below catches the rainwater and stores in a well beneath the house.’

‘So you ‘Vints leave holes in your roof?’

‘Yes.’

‘Deliberately?’

‘Yes.’

‘On purpose?’

‘Believe it or not.’

Bull still looked sceptical about Tevinter’s architectural choices. ‘I’m guessing this type of rain doesn’t happen often.’

‘You’d be right. I’ll get the hearth lit.’ Dorian said pulling off his sodden coat. The rain had plastered his pants and shirt to his skin. ‘The whole place will warm up once we get the hypocaust working.’

‘The what?’

‘It funnels the hot air from the furnace under the floor tiles. Warms the room from below.’ Dorian shook some water from his hair and looked over at Bull. He looked even more drenched than Dorian, if possible. Drops running in rivulets across his shoulders, along his collarbone, down his chest--

Dorian coughed. He felt like he may not need the hypocaust after all. ‘I’ll go fetch us some towels.’ Bull lifted his hand.

‘I’ll go look for them. You work on getting that hyper-thing going. Where’d you keep them?’

‘Try the first bedroom to the left.’ Dorian tugged off his boots and tipped out the water. ‘They should be in the cupboard against the wall.’

Bull nodded and left, eyeing the roof-hole as he went. Dorian crossed the atrium, sweeping his hand. All the oil lamps burst into life as he passed. The summer-house still looked dim and bleak. The slaves had covered all furniture in the atrium and the dining room in dust sheets. It gave the house an ancient, ghostly quality.

As Dorian entered the kitchen, the feeling of gloom became even more oppressive. The kitchen had always been dark and unpleasant. Only the slaves used it, so why bother to make it pretty to look at? No one important was going to see it. Dorian had, when he was younger, snuck in to steal a pear or some grapes, but he’d never lingered. The room was too cramped. It was always filled with too many slaves jostling each other for bench space or yelling at each other to hurry up and finish preparing dessert. Dorian had picked up some of his favourite profanities in this kitchen. Besides being gloomy, it was also always stiflingly hot. In the corner of the room was an enormous hearth. Before, it had always had something roasting, stewing, or baking inside. Dorian flicked his wrist and it sprang to life, the fire inside glowing strong. At least today the heat would be welcome.

‘I got you these.’

Dorian spun around to find Bull standing behind him. He’d dried off and slung the towel over his shoulder. Dorian saw Bull had also taken the opportunity to change into his newer pants. They were a dark navy blue, but looked almost black in this light, contrasting with his silver skin. Bull held out some robes in one hand and a towel in the other.

‘I found some clothes in the cupboard. It looked like they would fit.’

Dorian felt something sharp stick in his throat. Those robes were his father's. They may have been his favourite, too. Dorian had seen him wear them hundreds of times. He bet they even smelt like him. The thought made him want to gag. Dorian managed to smile—it was stiff but it was a smile—and took both the towel and the robes.

‘Thank you, Bull.’ He said. ‘The hearth’s lit. The house should heat up soon enough.’

Dorian ran his towel over his hair, rubbing it as dry as possible. Bull looked around the kitchen.

‘You think there's any food here?’ Dorian shrugged.

‘Nothing fresh, but there may be something pickled or preserved in the storage room.’

Dorian pointed to the pantry door in the corner of the kitchen. ‘Just let me dry off and I’ll fetch us something.

‘How about you go get changed and I’ll whip something together.’

Dorian raised his eyebrow.

‘What?’ said Bull.

‘You can cook?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You? A hardened Qunari mercenary?’

‘Hey, I'm a complex guy with hidden talents.’

Dorian put a hand on his hip. ‘Really? Any other secrets you've neglected to tell me? Do you also press flowers? Recite poetry?’

Bull took Dorian by the shoulders and steered him out of the kitchen. ‘You just let me handle this. Go get out of those wet clothes before you catch something life-threatening. Do you humans know what you look like when you get sick? It’s all oozy and disgusting.’

‘Do I get a hint at what culinary delights you have planned? Or is it a secret?’

Bull smiled.

‘It depends whether they have rice.’

And with that he closed the kitchen door.

…

Dorian had been more than happy to eat his words after he’d eaten Bull’s food. Most of meal consisted of dried fruits, aged cheeses, and smoked meats. They had even found some wines down in the cellar that were fruity and sweet and warmed you from the belly out.

But Bull’s rice pudding was amazing.

‘This isn’t possible. This is a physical impossibility.’

Dorian had put down his spoon and was scooping up the last remnants of the pudding with his finger. He wasn't going to let any go to waste. His mother would be horrified.

‘How on earth did you make this so creamy without milk?’

Bull chuckled and ate another spoonful. ‘You never know when you’ll get fresh supplies on the road. You learn to get creative.’

‘You know how some people claim Archon Gratianus kept his dead mistresses’ body in a vat of honey after she died?’ Dorian sucked his finger clean.

‘That’s… interesting?’

‘When I die, I want my remains encased in a vat of this pudding.’

Bull laughed. ‘Thanks for ruining honey and pudding for me.’

‘Nothing can ruin this pudding. It is a miracle. It is proof of the Maker’s divine love.’

The summer home’s gloominess had lifted once they had gotten the fire and oil-lamps lit. The flickering light caught on the glossy mosaic tiles, making the whole dining room shimmer. Bull and Dorian reclined around the low table among cushions and pillows while they ate. Bull had one leg tucked under him and one knee up for his arm to lean on. Dorian leant to the side, his legs stretched out next to him, his weight on one hand. The two men were almost shoulder to shoulder, the bowls of food spread out within arm’s reach.

‘I can’t believe that your master has a spare house.’

Dorian took a dried date from a bowl on the table. ‘What do you mean?’ He asked, popping it in his mouth.

‘Think about it. There are people in Minrathous living on the streets or trying to cram ten people into one bedroom. And here is an entire house sitting empty for most of the year. Never seen anything so wasteful.’

Dorian felt the pit of the date slide around on his tongue. He picked it out of his mouth and dropped it into his empty pudding bowl.

‘I suppose I never really thought about it.’

Bull scoffed. ‘You’re lucky enough not to have had to.’

Dorian grimaced. The date had left a bitter aftertaste. Bull was right of course. A few months on the run didn’t tip the scales on a life of luxury and privilege. He felt something change in Bull’s posture. Dorian felt the irrational suspicion that he was being tested.

‘What’s he like?’ Bull asked.

‘Hm?’

‘Your master.’

Dorian’s stomach dropped, like he had missed a step in the dark. Some little paranoid voice in him was trying to convince him to run. He smothered it under all his rational thought. Dorian was an expert in maintaining the appearance that everything was normal. He’d cultivated the skill over many years.

‘Why do you care?’ He asked, as though the topic bored him.

‘We’re squatting in his house. Feel like I should know something about the guy.’

Dorian shifted against the cushion. The slick unpleasant taste from the date was still stuck to the roof of his mouth.

‘Well. Let me think. He’s… he’s a resilient man. Sharp-minded. Naturally talented, but diligent in bettering himself and his household--’

Bull nodded. ‘Right, right. Smart, hard-working, all that stuff. But I notice you didn’t say you liked him.’

‘What does that have to do with anything?’ Dorian snapped. He bit down on the inside of his cheek. ‘Forgive me--‘

‘Dorian.’ Bull moved closer to him, leaning his head lower to try to catch Dorian’s eye. It was a deliberately slow act. Dorian recognised it. He had used it that morning, re-saddling the horses. You moved that way when you didn’t want to spook them.

‘Dorian, I need the truth. You weren't delivering a message for him when the slavers grabbed you, were you?’

Dorian avoided Bull’s penetrating stare. He bunched his hand into a fist to stop it from shaking.

‘Were you were running from him?’

Dorian didn’t realise he had leapt up from his seat until he heard the bowls and plates clatter. His shin knocked the table, but he kept moving. The oil lamps burst brighter as he strode past, his magic flaring with his anger. He could hear the jangle of Bull’s leg brace as he followed him.

‘Dorian, I’m sorry. Please--’ His hand landed on Dorian shoulder.

‘Don’t, Bull!’ Dorian twisted around, pulling out of Bull’s grip. ‘This is none of your business. I don’t need some Qunari thug prying into my affairs. Particularly not one who only tolerated my company out of desperation and necessity to begin with. I refuse to let you reduce my life into some diverting way for you to wait out a storm.’

Bull took a step backward, hand falling to his side. Dorian saw something in his face that looked like pain.

‘Is that what you think this is? That I just let you hang around because I didn’t have a choice?’

Dorian crossed his arms and looked down at the tiles. A wave of weariness crashed into him. All he wanted was to end this conversation and go to bed.

‘You said as much. You are a Qunari in Tevinter. Having a human with you opened more doors. And you know what they say about beggars and choosers.’ Dorian huffed out a laugh. ‘It’s ironic. I think I’ve caused you far more problems than I averted on this little journey. You had to carry me out of the slavers' camp. You had to drag me across a river. You had to save my arse when I started a bar fight. If you weren’t saddled with me, you could have secured that big job in Qarinus by now. Be honest, Bull. If you were still with your Chargers, you wouldn’t have any more use--‘

Two giant hands grabbed Dorian by the collar and slammed his back against the wall. Bull grabbed Dorian by the chin and forced his face up to look him in the eye. His gaze was dark searing, his mouth twisted into a snarl.

‘Listen to me carefully, Dorian.’ Bull's voice was low and deadly. ‘If I ever hear you talk about yourself that way again, I will grab you by the throat and shake you until you black out. I have no idea where you got that shit-- no, actually I have a really good idea where you got that shit, but that fucker isn’t here. I am. And I'm telling you, it ends now. I would still be in that cage on my way to Minrathous if it wasn't for you.’

Bull stilled. He pulled his hand away from Dorian’s chin. But he didn't step back, still crowding him against the wall. Dorian drew in a few ragged breaths, his eyes locked on Bull’s face. He ran his hand over his chin where Bull had held him.

‘That,’ he said, ‘was the most terrifying self-esteem talk I’ve ever seen.’

Bull grunted. ‘Yeah well, get used to it. No one gets to talk shit about my people. Not even them.’

Dorian would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t still trembling a little.

‘Bull, as I have mentioned countless times before, I am not one of your people. You have no sway over me.’

Bull eyes flicked down from Dorian’s for a split second. When he looked up again, his face was determined.

‘What if you were one of my people?’

Dorian’s brow furrowed.

‘I have no idea what you mean.’

‘Join the Chargers. Come with us.’

Dorian’s mouth fell open. He shook his head. ‘You are deluded--‘

He tried to push past Bull. Bull slapped his palm against the wall, blocking Dorian’s path.

‘I'm serious. Think about it Dorian. You’re a great mage. More than great. Lethal. You’re devastating in a fight. You can think on your feet. Once you got to know my boys, and with a little training, you’d be a force of nature. Plus I am a big believer in "No Pants Friday".’

Dorian didn't quite manage to hold down a chuckle. ‘Bull, I have never seen you wear a shirt. For you, No Pants Friday would just be "Naked Friday".’

Bull smirked. ‘Oh, like you would be so disappointed about that.’

Dorian didn’t even try to hold down the laugh the second time. Bull joined him. He was so close Dorian could feel the laughter vibrate through him. All of a sudden, Dorian became acutely aware of Bull’s presence in his space. How he was leaning on the arm braced next to Dorian’s shoulder. How Bull’s body was pressing him up against the wall. How Dorian could see his chest rise and fall with each breath.

It was like how he hadn’t realised he’d leapt up from the table until he’d already done it. One moment everything was fine, and the next Dorian’s hands were on either side of Bull’s face and his arms were dragging Bull’s head down and he'd crashed their lips together in a firm, unyielding kiss.

The kiss lasted three seconds.

The first second was full of want and lust and the fulfilment of an unconscious desire. Like having your first sip of water when you didn’t realise you were dying of thirst.

In the second second Dorian’s mind began to process what was happening. _It’s Bull!_ It whispered. _You’re kissing Iron Bull!_ He could feel Bull’s lips stiff against his own, see his eye wide in shock.

It would be most accurate to describe he third second as the “Oh no.” second.

Dorian pulled away from Bull’s mouth like he had just put his lips against a burning ember.

‘Venhedis! Fasta vass kaffas kaffas kaffas kaffas!’

Dorian leant back against the wall as far as he could and buried his face in his hands. He could feel the heat from his blush against his palms. It was possible for a man to die of mortification, right? That was a medical possibility? It would be a merciful way to go.

‘Bull I am so, so sorry. Please forgive--‘

Bull batted Dorian’s hands away from his face and seized him by the scruff of the neck. Dorian didn’t have enough time to register what has happening before Bull tugged him back up into another merciless kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes that is the end of the chapter.  
> Also I am going back to work tomorrow, so I am sorry to say updates may be a little less frequent than they have been. I'll do my best not to leave you hanging though because we all know what's in store for the next chapter.


	19. Taarsidath-an halsaam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Sorry about the wait. To make up for it here is a double length chapter that is basically PWP. Be warned though, I've only ever written femslash before (I was like a fandom unicorn). Please bare that in mind and I'm sorry for any obvious mistakes.

_We shouldn’t be doing this._

Bull and Dorian pushed and tugged and shoved each other all the way to the master suite. Dorian heard a clatter as Bull backed into a bust of his Great Aunt Hortensia. It fell to the tiles with a thump. Neither of them stopped. Bits of clothing—a sash from Dorian’s robes, Bull’s boots and harness—hit the floor as they went. They punctuated their struggles and stumbles with frantic, heavy kissing. Bull’s mouth was wide and warm and Dorian felt a compulsion to taste as much of it as he could. To inhale whatever made Bull so irresistible. But Bull, Maker damn him, wouldn’t stop smiling. How was Dorian meant to kiss him properly when the oaf wouldn’t stop smiling?

_This is a terrible idea, Dorian. You’ve had many terrible ideas over the years. But bedding a Qunari you met three days ago may be the pinnacle of your ‘Terrible Ideas’ career._

The two men knocked the door open with their shoulders, not breaking apart for something as trivial as a door handle. The suite was spacious, but cold and dim without a fire. Against the far wall was a bed. Dorian’s father’s bed. That thought was the mother of all mood-killers, so Dorian threw it away from himself as hard as possible. It was just a bed. Huge and wide and soft and warm and perfect for their purposes.

Dorian’s hands were working to undo Bull’s belt. He wasn’t having much success. He couldn’t seem to stop his fingers from fumbling with the clasp. Bull’s hands had somehow found their way under his robes. Dorian could feel the pressure of Bull’s fingertips as they dragged along his skin. It felt as though Bull was trying to mould him like a piece of clay.

_Stop it now. It may not be too late to fix things. Blame the wine and the fire and the stupid joke about his pants--_

Bull’s hands were gone.

Dorian’s mind stumbled at the loss of his touch, disappointed and confused. Their lips were still locked together, but Bull’s mouth had stopped moving.

_He’s changed his mind. Of course he has. You should have stopped this first, before things got out of hand. But no. You’ve always been weak in the face of temptation._

The hands returned, cupping Dorian’s cheeks and pulling his head back, breaking the kiss. Bull ran his thumb gently under Dorian’s beauty mark.

‘Dorian,’ Bull said with affection, ‘shut up.’

Dorian bristled ‘I haven’t said a word!’

‘You have no idea how loudly you think. It’s distracting.’

‘Well, I do apologise. I never knew Qunari were telepath--‘

Bull cut off his snarky comment with another kiss. Dorian wondered whether that was Bull’s new strategy. Shut the ‘Vint up before he says something sarcastic.

Because if that was Bull’s aim, Dorian could be persuaded to muster a lot more sarcasm.

Dorian tried to deepen the kiss, but Bull’s huge hands held his head in place. He made a small, muffled noise and frowned. Dorian wrapped his hands around Bull’s wrists and squeezed, his grip tight on Bull’s pulse points. Iron Bull didn’t take the hint.

Before, he had been matching Dorian’s speed. Bull had been just and impatient, just as hungry. That eagerness still remained. But now Bull’s movements were slower, more thorough. Bull’s teeth scraped against Dorian’s lower lip. His tongue prodded the split Dorian had received during the bar fight. It nudged at Dorian’s lips again, parting them a little, wordlessly asking for permission to enter. Dorian opened to him, allowing Bull to explore his mouth. Every movement of Bull’s tongue and lips and teeth was deliberate and methodical. Dorian could feel the way Bull increased the pressure, the depth, the slickness. Bull’s tongue slid against the roof of his mouth, and Dorian couldn’t hold down a moan. He felt Bull’s lips tighten for a second—that insufferable grin again—and he repeated it, trying to coax more sounds out of Dorian. The mage realised Bull was testing him. Studying his responses to see what was going to push him to the edge. The thought of being scrutinised so carefully and tenderly made Dorian shudder. It was unbearable. He turned his face away from the kiss, looking down, dragging in a ragged breath. Dorian couldn’t see Bull’s expression, but he felt Bull tense against him.

‘What’s wrong?’ Bull asked. Dorian hated how concerned he sounded.

‘What are we doing?’ Dorian whispered.

Bull’s hands were still cupping his face. He turned Dorian’s head up to meet his gaze. His grin was lop-sided and soft.

‘Kissing. I thought you guys had that in Tevinter.’

Dorian sniggered. If Bull wanted to deflect from what was going on, Dorian was more than happy to oblige.

‘I hope that kissing isn’t all you were planning on doing tonight.’

Bull’s soft smile gained a predatory edge.

‘It isn’t.’

‘You sure, Bull?’ Dorian hoped his voice was sultry enough to entice Bull into action. His hands fell away from Bull’s wrists and slipped up Bull’s chest. ‘Because at the pace we're going, we’re unlikely to reach the bed by next year.’

Bull laughed at that. One of his hands moved to the nape of Dorian’s neck. The other ghosted down to the small of his back.

‘You’re not used to taking things slow, are you?’ Said Bull. It wasn’t really a question. Dorian pulled back a bit.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Let me guess. Sneaking off with older men during one of your master’s parties? Quickies in the bath-house with nameless boys you never saw again. Quiet. Fast. Clumsy. Done. That’s the type of sex you’re into. Well, not into. Used to. It’s not like you’ve ever had any other choice.’

A jolt of anger flared in Dorian’s stomach. Half of him was furious that Bull dared to presume such things about him. The other half was mortified at how accurate Bull’s depiction of his sex-life was.

‘If you intend to mock me--‘

Dorian tried to pull away, but Bull’s grip on his back tightened. He dragged Dorian closer against him and leant in. Dorian could feel Bull’s stubble scrape against the shell of his ear.

‘Not to mock. To rectify.’ Bull’s mouth moved lower, his teeth nipping at Dorian’s jugular. ‘We are alone. We are safe. We are miles away from any other living person. And we have all the time in the world. Don’t you want to have one time—one pure, honest, fuck—where you’re not terrified someone is going to walk in and find you with a stranger’s cock in your mouth?  Don’t you think you deserve that, Dorian? I think you do. All I want to do is to give you what you deserve.’

The noise that slipped from Dorian’s throat was so needy and raw that he felt his face flush in an instant. Horrified, he squirmed in Bull’s hold, trying to shy away. Bull just held him still and chuckled.

‘Don’t be embarrassed, Dorian. You don’t even need to be quiet. I’m the only one here, remember?’

Bull’s hands ran over Dorian’s body again, as he backed them both towards the bed.

‘And I want to hear those noises. I want to hear you screaming my name when you’ve forgotten your own. The only time when I want you silent is when you’ve shouted yourself hoarse from pleasure.’

Bull pushed Dorian backwards. He fell flat against the bed, the mattress bouncing under his weight. Dorian propped himself on his elbows and looked up at Bull. The angle played to Bull’s advantage, and Dorian was sure the smug bastard knew it. His size had always been remarkable, even for a Qunari. But from his back, looking up, Dorian could only think of one word. Colossal. In the half-light, Bull was almost a silhouette. A shadowy figure that emanated strength and assurance and something primal. And had horns. Horns that could become a fetish if Dorian didn’t keep an eye on that. Dorian caught sight of how fast his chest rose and fell. He forced himself to take a long, deep breath. Bull knelt one knee on the bed, between Dorian’s thighs, and leaned over him.

‘But I only want that if you want it. You get that, right?’

Bull’s tone had shifted dramatically. Gone was the dark and sensual tenor that made Dorian want to flee from and pounce on Bull at the same time. He now sounded forthright and direct. Maybe even a bit blunt.

Dorian scowled. ‘You think I don’t want this? I was the one who kissed _you_ , remember.’

Bull shrugged. ‘I know I can be a bit intimidating--‘

‘Don’t flatter yourself.’

‘--and you’ve looked half-petrified from the moment you saw the bed. I’m not going to keep going unless you’re into it.’

Dorian bunched his hands up in the sheets beside him.

‘I’m not a blushing virgin, Bull. I am aware of what your intentions are.’

‘I know.’ Bull said. He reached out a hand and rested it on Dorian’s shoulder. Bull stroked his thumb along Dorian’s collarbone. ‘I just need to know they’re your intentions too.’

Dorian licked his lips. He couldn’t think of the last time any of his sexual partners had asked him what he wanted. Had any of them? Dorian didn’t believe so. There hadn’t been a lot of time for negotiations. And yet here was this giant—this "savage and brutal Qunari"—prioritising Dorian’s comfort over his own desires. There was something intoxicating in that.

Dorian couldn’t get his mouth to form any words. He could tell Bull was waiting for a reply, ready to withdraw at the slightest hint of uncertainty.

Dorian grasped Bull’s wrist. Then, slowly, he pulled Bull’s hand down to cup his half-hard cock. Dorian managed a smile. It was shaky but genuine.

‘Are my intentions clear enough now?’

Bull smirked and palmed Dorian’s crotch harder. His fingers reached down around Dorian’s balls, rubbing them through the fabric. The friction made Dorian gasp. He threw his head back against the bed.

‘Crystal.’ Bull chuckled. ‘You got a watchword?’

‘A watchword?’ Dorian asked, incredulous. ‘You can’t be serious.’

Bull’s hand stopped its movements. Dorian groaned at the loss. His hips jerked up into Bull’s palm, trying to re-create that contact. Bull just gripped his hip with his other hand and forced Dorian back down onto the bed.

‘Deadly serious. We don’t do this without a watchword. Pick one.’

‘Alright, alright!’ Dorian panted. His mind scrambled for a word, any word. But his blighted mind was too distracted by what Bull’s hand was not doing. ‘I can’t-- I don’t know--‘

‘Katoh.’ Bull said. ‘You want to stop, you say Katoh. Get it?’

‘Yes, I get it.’

Bull’s hand squeezed tight on Dorian’s groin, teetering on the edge of painful. The noise Dorian made was not dignified.

‘Say. The. Word.’

Dorian dug his heels into the mattress. He tried to find some leverage to buck and arch against Bull again. But Bull’s hold was unyielding. Flashes of white light burst across Dorian’s sight.

‘Katoh! The word is Katoh!’

Bull released his hold, rubbing Dorian’s cock with long soothing strokes.

‘There you go.’ He murmured. He almost sounded proud. ‘There’s a good boy.’

A small part of Dorian wanted to object to the “good boy”. It was drowned out by the wave of pleasure that shot through him with every stroke of Bull’s hand. He felt a dip in the bed as Bull pulled himself fully onto the mattress, kneeling between Dorian’s knees. Both of Bull’s hands travelled upward to Dorian’s chest. He lifted his head to see what Bull was doing.

‘What--’

‘Shhh. It’s okay. You hate these robes, don’t you?’

Dorian pursed his lips. ‘It’s not-- I appreciated the gesture--’

‘Let me guess. They belong to him?’

Bull didn’t even need to say who “him” was. Dorian grimaced. ‘This isn’t arousing pillow-talk, Bull. Why do you care?’

‘I don’t. Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get pissed when I did this.’

A loud rip tore through the night followed by the sound of thunder. Dorian felt the material tear away from his skin, leaving him exposed to the cool night air. He looked down and saw the robe in tatters. The sleeves and the back remained trapped under him, but the front was completely gone.

‘Kaffas, Bull!’

Bull ignored him. Two of his fingers slipped under the hem of Dorian’s tights. Bull looked up at Dorian and leered.

‘Again?’

Dorian hesitated for a moment. Then he smirked back.

‘Have at it.’

The sound of shredding fabric rang out again. Dorian arched up into the feeling. He should have felt exposed and vulnerable. Instead, he felt elated.

Bull’s broad, warm hands skated down onto Dorian’s bare thighs. He sat back on his haunches, taking in the bronzed skin stretched out below him.

‘Damn.’ Bull said. There was something like reverence in his voice. ‘I’ve seen you without clothes before, but damn.’

‘You haven’t seen all of it.’ Dorian whispered. He reached down and hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear. He lifted his arse off the bed to make it easier to slip them off.

Dorian yelped as Bull seized him under his knees and heaved him upwards. Dorian’s shoulder-blades dragged along the sheets, stopping over Bull’s knees. Bull rested Dorian’s thighs on his shoulders. Then he bent his face down into Dorian’s smalls. He inhaled deeply.

‘Not yet. Keep them on.’ Dorian could feel Bull’s lips move against the cloth covering his cock. Bull’s breath seeped through the material. It wafted around his shaft, making it twitch beneath the fabric. Dorian tried to squirm, but he had no leverage in this position. He suspected Bull had done that deliberately. ‘I want to try something out.’

Bull nuzzled his nose along the seam where Dorian’s leg joined his hip. Dorian writhed again, but remained helpless. He bunched one fist in the sheets again, the other gripping onto a handful of Bull’s pants. Bull lapped a long stroke along the side of Dorian’s cock. The sensation of Bull’s firm tongue, and the rasp of the cloth against him, made Dorian jolt. Bull kept his firm hold on Dorian’s thighs, undeterred by Dorian’s wriggling. Dorian could feel the warmth and dampness of Bull’s mouth soaking through his smalls now. His prick began to strain against its confines. Dorian let go of Bull’s pants and punched him in the thigh.

‘Bull! Enough! Get them off so you can get me off!’

Bull chuckled at that, which did the opposite of help. Dorian could feel the vibrations of that laugh roll through him like waves. He stifled a moan, only to let it lose again when Bull’s tongue ran against his cock’s tip. Dorian’s eyes rolled back. Half upside-down, he could feel the blood rushing to his head. But the blood also had other locations it wanted to be.

‘I’m going to pass out.’ He whimpered to himself.

Bull’s grip on his thigh tightened. Dorian was sure there would be a handprint in the morning. Bull’s lips wrapped around Dorian’s trapped cock and sucked hard. Dorian jerked into the sensation, Bull’s tongue running along the underside of his shaft. Bull removed his mouth and stared down at Dorian.

‘Don’t even think about it, big guy. You pass out, you miss out on all the fun.’

Bull let go of Dorian’s legs without warning and stood up from the bed. Dorian’s lower back landed on the mattress. His knees swung over the side of the bed, his feet hit the cold tiled floor. His dick juddered at the loss of Bull’s mouth, and Dorian felt on the verge of tears.

‘What the bloody hell, Bull!’ Dorian yelled. He jammed his hand into his own smalls to give himself the relief he needed and Bull had denied. He took his cock in one tight fist and ran his thumb over its tip--

The world flipped as Bull yanked Dorian over onto his stomach. Bull snatched Dorian’s wrist out of his pants and pulled it to the small of his back. He grabbed the other one and did the same. Bull held both of Dorian’s wrists together in one giant hand while the mage spat and thrashed in his grip. He snatched the remnants of Dorian’s robe and tugged it down over his forearms, using the remaining shreds to tie them together. Dorian tugged and struggled against the binds. They held. He let out a string of expletives, all colourful and descriptive. Bull rubbed Dorian’s arse, and gave it a playful slap.

‘So impatient!’ He said and tsked. ‘You never heard anyone say “Good things come to those who wait”?’

Dorian tried to regain the contact he craved by rubbing his prick against the sheets. But Bull’s hand was holding down his arse, and those infernal underpants still trapped his cock. There was no way Dorian could build enough friction. Dorian gritted his teeth.

‘Bull, swear to Andraste, I will kill you and everything you’ve ever loved if you don’t touch my cock this instant!’

‘You say the sweetest things.’

Dorian felt one of Bull’s fingers slip between his clothed cheeks and rub along his arsehole. In reflex his arse clenched, his whole body shuddering. He buried his face into the sheets.

‘I hate these blighted smalls!’ Dorian hissed. ‘If I'd known you intended to torment me with them I wouldn’t have worn any!’

Bull reached back up to Dorian’s arse and squeezed. Then he stood up. Dorian heard Bull’s belt buckle clicking and turned his face to see.

‘A man after own heart.’

Dorian watched as Bull’s pants fell away and pooled around his ankles. Dorian’s mouth fell open a fraction.

Bull was naked. Bull was hard. Bull was glorious.

Dorian demonstrated his profanity skills again. Bull laughed and drew one hand along his own length.

‘Do I pass?’

‘I want that inside me.’ Dorian said, all shame flying from him. ‘Stuffed in my mouth, up my arse, I don’t care. I need it in me now.’

Bull made a noise that had Dorian shuddering again. He leaned down and ran his fingers through Dorian’s hair. It was an affectionate gesture. It was also a strange contrast to the man who had been sucking his cock through his smalls only thirty seconds ago.

‘I love a man with a plan.’ Bull said and kissed Dorian’s temple. ‘I just need a few things.’

Dorian tried to look up at Bull as he moved away, but from flat on his stomach the angle was impossible.

‘What things?’

‘I wasn’t planning on all this. I’m a bit unprepared’

Dorian heard the drawers of the bedside table open and the sound of Bull rummaging through the contents. ‘I may have to leave you like this and duck out to the kitchen--‘

‘Don’t you dare!’

‘--but I’m hoping-- Aha! Yes. I knew it.’

Bull pulled something out of the drawer and held it in front of Dorian’s face. It was a vial of oil. Dorian groaned, and not in a good way.

‘I could have happily gone to my grave not knowing that vial existed.’

Bull unstoppered the vial and poured out some of the oil onto his fingers. He gave it an experimental smear and sniffed it.

‘Still good. Your master splurges on the expensive stuff.’

‘Bull, I beg you. Please stop talking!’

Bull dropped the vial on the mattress and sat beside Dorian’s head. His dick was inches away from Dorian’s face. Bull took Dorian by the shoulder and hip, turning the man over until he was on his side. The hand that had caressed Dorian’s hair now snatched a fistful of it. Bull pulled Dorian’s head back, forcing him to watch. The other hand, the one slicked with oil, began to stroke leisurely up and down Bull’s cock. Dorian whimpered at the sight.

‘Come on, Dorian.’ Bull crooned as he worked. ‘You’re telling me this doesn’t get you off? You don’t get all hot and bothered by the thought of fucking a Qunari in your master’s summer home? In his bed, in his robes, with his oil?’

Dorian whined.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought. What would he say if he could see you now? I can’t think of a better “fuck you” than this, can you? Best send-off imaginable before running away and joining a mercenary crew.’

‘I-- I never-- agreed to-- to join--‘ Dorian couldn’t finish off his sentence, he was panting so hard. Bull knew what he was saying.

‘Not yet.’ Bull said. ‘I’ll persuade you.’

Bull let go of Dorian’s hair and rolled him back onto his stomach. Dorian felt the wet spot he had left on the sheets, cool and slick against his thigh. Bull crawled around behind him. He snaked an arm under Dorian’s waist and pulled his arse upwards before tucking Dorian’s knees under him. His face and chest were still flat against the mattress. His arse sat high in the air. Dorian has never felt more on display in his life.

Until, of course Bull pulled down his underpants enough to expose his naked arse.

Not enough to free his still-straining cock of course.  But enough for Bull to get an eyeful of Dorian’s pert round cheeks and flawless skin.

Bull growled and ran his palms over the exposed flesh. One of his hands reached between Dorian’s legs and started caressing his dick again. Underneath him, Dorian buried his face into the sheets and was making a series of muffled sobs.

Bull let go of Dorian’s cheek and reached over for the vial again. He poured the oil over Dorian’s crack. Dorian jolted in shock at the feeling.  Bull hummed as it trickled down the crevice and over Dorian’s arsehole. Some of it ran down the side of Dorian’s leg and dropped on the sheets with the tiniest “plink”. He let go of Dorian’s cock and slicked up his fingers again. He traced one along Dorian’s hole. He was rewarded with a moan.

‘You remember the word?’ Bull asked. Dorian pulled his face out of the sheets.

‘The word is Katoh, and if you think I’m going to say it now, you’re insane. Hurry up and fuck me or I-- AH-ah!’

Dorian felt Bull slip his finger in his hole and couldn’t stop himself clenching around it. Bull curled his finger and Dorian made that noise again. Bull chuckled. He did that on purpose, that bastard.

‘I love that. Two?’

Dorian nodded (or at least moved his head against the mattress in a way that looked like a nod.) There was a pause. For a moment Dorian wondered if Bull was going to hold out. Make Dorian speak, beg even.  But it seemed like Bull didn’t have the patience for that either. He slipped his second finger in and pushed his way up to the second knuckle. Dorian rocked back on his knees, driving Bull’s fingers further inside him. He yelped as he felt Bull’s teeth nip his arse cheek.

‘None of that. Don’t get greedy. Or should I say _cheeky_.’

Dorian tried to kick Bull’s knee for that terrible pun. Bull rubbed the pads of his fingers against Dorian’s prostate, and he cried out like a lost child. Bull rubbed a hand along Dorian’s lower back and shushed him.

‘Shhh. It’s all good Dorian. You’re doing great. I’m almost done. You’ve been so patient.’

Bull continued to stretch out Dorian’s hole with the same deliberate and methodical mentality he’d had while kissing. Dorian could feel the precum and oil soaking through his smalls. It dripped onto the bed between his knees. Dorian twisted in the ties that held his wrists together, desperate to grab his own cock. They didn’t budge. This was going to take as long as Bull wanted it to take. He was completely at Bull’s mercy.

When Dorian felt the head of Bull’s slick cock nudge against his arsehole, he felt like crying in relief.

‘You ready?’ Bull asked.

Under different circumstances, he would have told Bull he had been ready for decades and if Bull didn’t hurry up, he would die of old age. But all Dorian could manage was a nod.

Bull curled his hands around Dorian’s hips and lined himself up. Then, gradually, he sank his prick, inch by inch, into Dorian’s hole.

This was torture, Dorian thought. This was a new kind of torture developed by the Qunari invasion forces. Drive the enemy out of their senses with the most pleasurable agony imaginable.

Bull got in halfway before he had to stop. Sweat trickled down his shoulders and along his chest before dropping onto Dorian’s back. He reached down around Dorian’s chest and pulled him up onto his lap, his cock still buried inside. Dorian’s shoulders were flush against Bull’s chest, his arms trapped against Bull’s stomach. Bull rearranged Dorian’s knees so they straddled his thighs. Dorian’s legs stretched apart so far he thought the muscles might snap. One of Bull’s giant hands splayed itself over Dorian’s sternum. The other reached down to his leaking dick.

Bull rolled his hips. Dorian sank an inch further onto Bull’s cock. Dorian cried out. The room lit up for a moment as a fork of lightning burst across the sky outside. Bull rolled his hips again. His other hand peeled back Dorian’s underpants, finally releasing his long-neglected prick. Bull stroked him, his hands still coated with oil, and thrust up again. Dorian had lost all semblance of poise and composure long ago. He was screaming Bull’s name, rutting into his hand, grinding down as far as he could on Bull’s cock. He felt it twitch inside of him and he clenched around it. Bull bellowed and drove in harder. Dorian gasped and tried to keep in rhythm with Bull, but he was close, so close now, and his whole body was shaking from the strain. Dorian let his head drop to his chest.

‘Bull, I can’t. I can’t--‘

‘Come on, Dorian. Come for me. You can do this. Do this for me.’

Bull bit into Dorian’s shoulder, and he jolted forward into Bull’s hand. At the same time, Bull slammed up into Dorian with one last jerk of his hips. Seed burst from Dorian’s cock in long white ropes, striping Bull’s hand, their knees, and the bed.

‘Fucking hell.’ Bull exclaimed.

Bull’s hips lost all their timing and pace, thrusting up into Dorian with a wild, fierce, abandon. Bull’s cum-smeared hand reached up to Dorian’s mouth. With two fingers, he wiped the semen over Dorian's lower lip. Dorian leant forward and sucked two of Bull’s fingers into his mouth, rolling his tongue along the length of them. Bull swore again, this time in Qunlat.

‘Dorian I’m going to--‘

Dorian sucked harder and clenched around Bull’s cock as tight as he could. Bull bucked up and Dorian felt Bull’s hot seed erupt inside of him. The sensation made Dorian’s dick twitch again, but he knew he didn’t have the stamina to go another round. Bull’s movement ground to a halt. Both men were breathless and trembling.

‘Dorian,’ Bull gasped, ‘you alright?’

The sound Dorian made wasn’t a word. The closest sound to the one Dorian made was “Mnhrnr.”

Bull laid them both back down on the bed. The oil and semen on the sheets rubbed against Dorian’s skin. Bull spoke behind him.

‘I’m gonna pull out. Kay?’

Dorian nodded.

Bull slowly withdrew his softening cock. Dorian moaned at the feeling of emptiness, the hot sting of cum leaking down his legs. The hand still planted on his chest rubbed circles against his skin. He felt Bull’s lips press kisses into his shoulder-blade.

‘You were amazing, Dorian.’ Bull whispered. He was barely audible over the sound of the driving rain. He worked quickly to untie Dorian’s wrists. ‘You were a phenomenon.’

Dorian laughed. It was obvious the laugh meant “Of course I was” and “You were spectacular” at the same time. As soon as his hands we free he turned over and pulled Bull into a clumsy kiss. Bull kissed back, content to have the feeling of Dorian’s mouth on his own. There was another roll of thunder, but it was distant and unimportant. Bull pulled back and ran his fingers through Dorian’s hair.

‘Stay here. I’ll be back.’

Dorian groaned as Bull's comforting warmth pulled away from him. He heard Bull's footsteps pad out of the room and then he was alone in the dark. He lay there for a moment, relaxed and boneless. But then the feeling of his wet underpants and greasy sheets started to make him itchy. He rolled onto his side and then stood to his feet. He stumbled a little, his legs not willing to take his weight, but soon regained his balance. Dorian tugged the sheets off the bed and chucked them into the corner of the room. He stripped off his smalls and did the same to them. He could feel Bull’s cum starting to leak out of his loose hole and down his leg. Dorian cast a bleary eye around the room, wondering where his father kept the sheets.

‘What did I say?’ A voice came from the doorway.

Bull stood there, holding a bowl of water. He had a washcloth draped over his forearm and a couple of sheets thrown over his shoulder.

‘To stay here.’ Said Dorian. ‘And look. I’m here.’

Bull shook his head, but he was grinning. He nodded towards the now bare mattress.

‘Get back into bed. I need to clean you up.’

‘I was looking for some fresh sheets, but it seems you’ve beaten me to the punch.’ Dorian said. He strolled over to the doorway, and tugged the washcloth from Bull’s arm. ‘And I’m perfectly capable of cleaning myself, Bull. I have a fair bit of experience in that department.’

Bull snatched the washcloth back from Dorian.

‘Has this been anything like one of those experiences so far?’ He asked. His voice was harsher than Dorian had expected. Dorian swallowed and shook his head.

‘Well it isn’t going to start now.’ Bull curled his arm around Dorian’s waist and led him back to the bed. He handed Dorian the bowl of water and plucked one of the sheets from his shoulder. He threw it over the mattress, not bothering to tuck it in.

‘Lie down.’

Without a word Dorian handed the bowl back to Bull and did as Bull said. Part of him wished he had kept his underpants on, feeling too exposed. He clasped his hands on his lower stomach, staring at the ceiling. Bull sat next to him and balanced the bowl on his knees. He dipped the washcloth in the water.

‘So, have you considered my offer?’ Dorian burst into laughter.

‘Bull! I’m unable to string together a coherent thought right now. Let alone consider employment opportunities.’

Bull wrung out the cloth and set to work, scrubbing the sweat off Dorian’s collarbone and chest.

‘Is that a negotiation tactic?’ Bull raised an eyebrow. The washcloth worked its way lower. ‘Because I’d be more than happy find other ways to motivate you to join up--'

Dorian weakly pushed at Bull’s shoulder. ‘No. No more “motivation”. You’ll break me.’ He stopped and considered. ‘You could try again in the morning, if you felt so inclined.’

A rumble reverberated through Bull’s chest. ‘Oh I’m inclined.’

He scooped one arm under Dorian’s knees and lifted him off the bed. Dorian whined at the feeling of being folded in half, but didn't make any other protest. Bull rubbed away the rest of the oil and semen from Dorian’s hole. Once satisfied, he lay Dorian back down and cleaned between his legs. Dorian’s cock twitched a little, but his eyes were barely open. Bull dropped the washcloth in the bowl and placed them both on the bedside table. He took the second sheet from his shoulder and spread it out over Dorian. He curled it around himself, thinking no one had tucked him into bed since he was a child.

‘Dorian.’ Bull’s voice was quiet and, Dorian realised, disconcertingly solemn. ‘We may have to talk about some other things in the morning, too.’

Dorian lifted his head. ‘Like what?’ Bull ran his hand down Dorian’s flank.

‘It doesn’t matter. We can deal with it in the morning.’

‘That's not comforting, Bull.’

Something queasy began to swell in the pit of Dorian’s stomach. He sat up. ‘Bull, if you feel uncomfortable about what just happened, I understand. I’ll go sleep in the guest bedroom and we’ll forget all--‘

Dorian didn’t even realise Iron Bull had moved until he pressed him down into the mattress. Bull wrapped his arms around him and pulled Dorian tight against his chest.

‘That’s not what I was going to say. At all.’

‘Then what--?’

‘Not tonight, Dorian.’

Bull pulled some of the sheet away from Dorian and wrapped it around himself.  ‘We’ll work out our plans tomorrow.’

Dorian wanted to push, but Bull’s arms were warm and strong, and his eyes were refusing to stay open.

‘Alright.’ He said. A yawn forced its way out of his mouth. ‘I suppose I have some things I need to tell you too.’

‘Hmm? Like what?’

‘Tomorrow.’ Dorian echoed Bull’s words and pressed a kiss into his shoulder. ‘We’ll work it out tomorrow.’


	20. Hissrad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've all been waiting for it.

Dorian didn’t want to get out of bed and take a piss.

His bladder had woken him up twenty minutes ago, and in that time he had done his best to ignore it. He listened to Bull’s breathing and focused of the feeling of Bull’s skin against his own.

But it was still raining. The constant dripping of the water outside made Dorian feel like he was going to burst.

He muttered to himself as he pulled off the sheet and sat up. Bull’s grip on his waist tightened.

‘What’s going on?’ Bull slurred. Dorian rubbed his arm.

‘Need to piss, Bull. Back in a moment.’

Bull grumbled but released Dorian. He was snoring again in seconds.

Dorian stumbled through the darkened house, not bothering to light up the oil lamps. He reached the front door and opened it, looking out into the downpour.

‘Well, I’m not going out there to find a tree.’

It would have mortified Dorian's mother if she knew he'd taken to pissing straight out the front door. Then again, Dorian’s mother was mortified by most things her son did nowadays. Bull would have been on the top of the list. When he was at last relieved, Dorian shook himself and closed the door. With a sigh, he wandered his way back towards the master suite.

His foot collided with Bull’s boot in the hallway between the dining room and the bedroom. Dorian stumbled a few steps and swore, holding his stubbed toe in his hands. Bull’s boot toppled over.

Dorian didn’t know the collective noun for a group of letters. A correspondence of letters? An alphabet of letters?

Whatever the correct phrase was, it had just spilled out of Bull’s boot. It was an impressive amount. Dorian wondered how there was enough room for Bull’s foot in there with all those letters.

Dorian ran his hand over his mouth. He looked back at the bedroom. He could still hear Bull’s snoring. He looked back down at the letters.

One peek couldn’t hurt, right?

Dorian sank to the floor and picked up one of the envelopes. Dorian glanced back at the bedroom, then peeled it open. He conjured a small ball of green light. It hovered near the page, allowing him enough light to read.

 

_Master Iron Bull_

 

Dorian snorted. The Iron Bull wasn’t the sort of name that leant itself to letter writing. At least starting off with “Master” was marginally better than writing “Dear Iron Bull”.

 

_We are grateful you have agreed to assist us with our wyvern issue. We are certain that you and your Chargers are more than a match for the task. Please find enclosed all the details of your mission. We will negotiate payment when we meet in person._

_The Counte De Hosture_

 

Dorian tucked the letter back into the envelope and placed it back in the boot. There you go. All business letters. He didn’t need to see any more. They were all bound to be the same. Dull and tedious and not worth his time. He should get up and get back into that warm bed, next to Bull.

Dorian licked his lips. He picked up another letter and opened it.

 

_Hissrad_

_I have forwarded the intel you gathered on the Tal-Vashoths in Nevarra to our superiors. They will send someone to deal with the situation. Expect new orders from your fellow Ben-Hassrath in the next letter._

_Gatt_

 

Dorian’s stomach churned. He looked over the letter again, rereading it to make sure he hadn’t gotten any of the words wrong. He hadn’t.

The letter said Ben-Hassrath. More importantly it said “fellow Ben-Hassrath”. Dorian didn’t pretend to be a Qunari expert, but he was Tevinter. Everyone in the Imperium knew about the Ben-Hassrath. From the cradle onward, the Ben-Hassrath were the main monsters in many a bedtime story.

Iron Bull was a spy.

Thunder crashed again, and Dorian jumped. He looked over his shoulder at the door to the bedroom, but Bull wasn’t there. He sighed in relief.

His eyes flickered over the word Hissrad again. Dorian hadn’t been foolish enough to think the Iron Bull was his real name. Yet there was something jarring in knowing this was Bull’s official title. It didn't suit him. Dorian knew little Qunlat. But he knew enough to know that the Qunari referred to all deities as Hissra, or “Illusions”. So there had to be some connection between the words, right? Maybe Hissrad meant illusionist. That made Dorian think of the simple conjurers hired to entertain children during feasts and parties. He thought of Bull in such a job and had to stop himself from giggling.

Was this what Bull had been planning on telling him in the morning? If so, it didn’t make Bull much of a spy. Wouldn't the first thing the Ben-Hasrath would have taught him be to not reveal--

Dorian’s stomach plummeted. On top of the pile of letters still scattered across the tiles, one stood out.

The back of it bore the Pavus seal.

Dorian let the letter he had been reading fall to the floor. With a shaky hand, he snatched up the letter with his family seal and broke the wax.

Dorian didn’t breathe as he read. He couldn’t.

 

_Esteemed Iron Bull._

_Your mercenary crew’s expertise has become renowned, even here in Tevinter. I have heard many illustrious members of the Imperium speak highly of you. They boast of your skills, your efficiency, and most importantly, your discretion. It is a delicate matter for which I approach you to ask for your assistance. I hope that the high regard I have seen others bestow upon you was not misleading._

_My son and heir, Dorian Pavus, has been missing for over a month. It is not the first time he has abandoned his duties to his household and his parents. Dorian, I am sorry to say, has never been one to resist his more selfish and hedonistic urges. He has brought upon the Pavus name much shame and disgrace, due to his pride and unwillingness to compromise._

_However, I fear that this time Dorian may be in far more danger than he ever has been. I have reason to believe my son’s state of mind has been damaged by some recent and unfortunate events. I will not be able to ascertain the level of damage until I see for myself what he has become. In addition to this, Dorian is a mage of no small talent. I am ashamed to say he may be a danger to others as well as himself in such a condition._

_I need you to locate my son and bring him back to my estate in Qarinus, as quickly and as quietly as possible. I understand that it may take some effort to subdue him, but I implore you not to damage him more than is necessary. For all the suffering he has caused me, he is still my son, and I still care deeply for his welfare. You will not find me ungenerous if you fulfil this task._

_If you wish to accept this contract, please come to my estate in person before the end of the month. We may discuss the particulars further once you are here. I have enclosed all the necessary paperwork you will require to get across the border._

_With Regards_

_Magister Halward Pavus_

 

Dorian’s whole body was betraying him on every front. His lungs and heart were working overtime, thumping and gasping, refusing to calm down. Bile threatened to rise in Dorian throat. His hands would not keep still, trembling violently. Their shaking made it almost impossible for Dorian to finish reading the damn letter. He just managed before the tears blotted out the last of the words.

Iron Bull had been hired to drag him back to his father.

Dorian balled up the letter in his fist and bit down on his knuckles, trying to stifle a sob. He tasted blood. He wanted to scream.

No. This was no time for panic. No time for emotion. Emotion was what had gotten him into this. If Bull came out and found him now, he didn’t risk being caught snooping through private letters. Oh no. Now he risked his freedom. His mind.

Dorian risked everything than made him himself.

He took his fist out of his mouth and slammed it into his forehead. Once! Twice! Three times!

How could he have been so stupid! No Qunari would accept a Tevinter mage so easily unless it was a ruse. He should have expected a knife in the back from the start. A knife would have been kinder. But this pretence that Bull cared for Dorian, that he felt--

Never mind what Bull felt. Dorian wasn’t sure Bull even really existed. There was a good chance that the Iron Bull was just a façade for Hissrad. That Bull was nothing more than--

That he was an illusion.

Scenes from the last few days flashed through Dorian’s mind. Bull saying he was a circus performer without blinking to Celcus the shit-seller. Bull insisting that he was just tipping the odds in his favour back in Désirée and Sulahn’s barn. Bull claiming it was a better idea to stick together back at the river. Bull coming back for Dorian time and time again when it would have been far easier for him to cut and run.

Bull trying to convince him to join the Chargers. To run away with him.

It was so obvious now. Was he that lonely and desperate that he’d let himself believe that Bull actually wanted him? No man had ever wanted him. He was a novelty. A dalliance. A taste of something exotic and risqué before returning back to the company of women. Men wanted to try Dorian. They never wanted to be with him. Had he really believed it could be different with a bloody Qunari? Everyone knew love like that didn’t exist under the Qun.

The letter had said to bring him back unharmed. What better way to keep Dorian compliant than to string him along like a lovesick puppy? Dorian would have been clueless and besotted the whole way. He wouldn't have suspected a thing until he was on his father's doorstep.

‘You’re a fool.’ Dorian whispered into the still night. ‘A complete and utter fool.’

Tears were falling down his cheeks now. White hot and angry. Dorian resented their existence. There was no time for this ridiculous self-pity. He knew the truth now, and he could deal with the emotional fallout later. He was good at that. But Dorian had to make his move, and he had to do it now.

Dorian ran his fingers through his hair. What was he going to do about Bull? He couldn’t just leave him. The moment he woke up, he would be on Dorian’s trail. Bull would to hunt him down far more efficiently than any slaver could. As long as Bull was after him, Dorian would never be safe.

The realisation hit Dorian. Horror juddered through him.

He was going to have to kill Bull.

As if he was sleepwalking, Dorian stood to his feet. The crumpled letter fell out of his loose hand. He wandered to the kitchen, taking no notice as the lightning thrashed outside the windows. Dorian picked up a long, curved knife off the counter. He could see his dim, tear-stained reflection in it. Inside his own head, Dorian was composing a letter of his own.

 

_Dear Father,_

_I met up with the Qunari spy you hired to kidnap me. Lovely fellow. We fucked in your bed and then I stabbed him in the eye. You might want to send the cleaners to the summer home before your next visit._

_Your selfish and hedonistic son,_

_Dorian Pavus_

 

The fire in his belly and the sharp sardonicism of his thoughts propelled Dorian as far as the doorway. But there his feet stopped, his determination flagging. The thought of going back into that room—where he had made love to the man who was in the midst of betraying him—made him want to vomit. If Bull opened his eye, or heard Dorian’s footsteps, or even smelt him, then it was all over. He could kiss his free-will goodbye.

Dorian’s stomach tightened. He shifted the knife in his sweaty palm. He could see the bloody bite-marks on his white knuckles.

This was no time for weakness. No time for mercy.

The Iron Bull wouldn’t show him any.

Dorian gritted his teeth. He raised his chin. He took a deep breath.

He entered the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so as many of you writer types know, NaNoWriMo is on this month and I am all in for it. However I will still be working on this fic. My NaNoWriMo thing comes first but I once I reach my word for the day I am going to come work on this. This may mean things go slower, it may mean things go quicker. I have no idea whether this fic will be my procrastination tool or my neglected side-project for the next month. But I promise I AM NOT GOING TO LEAVE THINGS HERE. I AM NOT THAT TYPE OF MONSTER.
> 
> So that was a quick heads-up. Thanks for reading.


	21. Fugam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news (for you guys) this is looking more and more like NaNoWriMo procrastination! Thank you for all your lovely comments/kudos.

Bull woke up to the sound of birds tweeting.

Stupid fucking birds.

His mind drifted through the foggy gap between conscious thought and sleep. He vaguely realised he was in a bed. When was the last time he’d slept in an actual bed? Not for weeks. Not since he’d come to Tevinter…

The last few weeks swam into his memory and he grimaced. Slavers. Bar fights. The burning camp. Riding through the storm. Running through frozen rivers--

Having fantastic sex with a hot ‘Vint mage.

That recollection ironed out the frown on his face. He hummed. Bull reached out his hand to touch some of that flawless brown skin that he’d felt the night before.

His hand didn’t come into contact with anything. Bull’s frown returned.

He opened his blurry eye and lifted himself onto his elbow. The sun was already high, the storm having rained itself out during the night.

Dorian wasn’t lying next to him.

There were a few drops of blood on the sheets.

 

_Dorian had never thought he could move so quietly or hold his breath for so long. Outside the window was almost pitch black, except for when the lightning struck. In those moments, he could see the torrential rain and the trees twisting in the wind._

_It took him an age to reach the side of the bed. Part of him told him he should have just strolled in. His bed-mate was expecting him to return to his warm embrace, after all. He could have made as much noise as he wanted. Bull wouldn’t have realised his intentions until he had a blade embedded in his skull._

_But Dorian didn’t dare. He was too afraid to pull off such an act of bravado. That, and some small, traitorous part of Dorian didn’t want Bull to know it was him that killed him. That felt ashamed and horrified at what he was planning to do._

_Dorian reached the bedside and looked over Bull’s sleeping form. The snoring was still steady. That massive chest still rose and fell for what Dorian knew would be Bull's last breaths. The scars over his chest and torso stretched over his muscles and fat with every breath. Bull's face was lax. There was something so different about it when he slept. All his sharp features and scars were still there. But sleep added a softness to his expression Dorian couldn’t articulate._

_Dorian's hand was shaking so badly he was scared that he was going to drop the knife._

_His other hand came up and gripped it, holding it steady. There wasn’t enough room to hold the hilt with two hands, so his left wrapped around the blade. It sliced into his palm. Dorian felt the sting of it, but couldn’t bring himself to care._

_He lifted the blade up over his head. He knew if this was a play that this would be the scene all the audience would gasp at. It had that melodramatic quality to it. Yet, within the silence of the room, the instant just felt sad. Not the throes-of-passion and deep anguish kind of sadness Dorian had expected. It was a weary, resigned sorrow. A combination of lost hope and bitter inevitability._

_Bull shifted in his sleep._

_It was a small movement, but it was enough to break Dorian’s nerve. His arms dropped to his sides as he backed away, the knife still clutched in his trembling hand. He didn’t even see the few drops of blood land on the sheets where he had been lying an hour ago._

 Bull sat up, adrenalin coursing through his veins like it did during the middle of an attack. His eyes darted around the room. They caught on a trail of blood that trickled all the way out the door.

‘Dorian!’ Bull shouted. No response.

Shit, had someone taken him? Had his arsehole father sent someone to yank Dorian out of bed while he slept? The thought was like a punch to the stomach.

Bull leapt out of bed and rounded the bedroom door into the hallway.

His boot was on its side. Scattered across the floor were his letters.

'Oh no.'

One of them was scrunched up into a ball against the wall. Bull strode towards it and snatched it up, uncurling it with his giant hands. His eye ran over the words four times before any of them sank in.

‘Shitting, fucking, pissing, bastard son of a bitch!’

Bull screwed up the letter again and slammed it against the wall. Why that letter? Out of all the letters on the floor. Out of all the letters Dorian could have read. Why did he have to read the wrong one!

Bull let the ball of paper drop to the floor again and entered the dining room. Dorian’s bloody hand-print was on the wall. On the floor next to it was a pool of barf and a knife.

Bull’s stomach fell. His Ben-Hassrath training filled in the blanks that his mind didn’t want to contemplate.

Dorian had tried to kill him.

 

_Dorian leant his sliced hand against the wall to hold himself steady and vomited. His arm barely held his weight. He tried to pull himself back up, but his body heaved again. This time there was nothing to bring up. Dorian leant his forehead against the wall and held down a sob._

_He was pathetic. The man in that room was betraying him for coin, and he couldn’t even raise a hand to defend himself. And why? Because even though he knew Bull was manipulating him, he still had misaligned feelings towards him. Dorian still cared about him. Just like he still cared about his father and Rilienus and Alexius--_

_Maybe there was something wrong with him._

_Dorian breathed in and pushed his weight from the wall. There was nothing for it. He couldn’t kill Bull, no matter how much his instincts urged him to. All he could do was get enough of a head-start. By the time Bull noticed Dorian was gone, he’d be miles away. If he left now, the storm would wash away his tracks. He may just have enough of a chance to best the Ben-Hassrath._

_Dorian went to his room, the room he had been planning on sleeping in, and pulled on his clothes. They had been drying by the fire and were still a little damp, but it didn’t matter. He was going out into the storm anyway. They would be soaked through again soon enough._

_Dorian snatched up his staff and hurried out of the room he’d slept in as a child, not once looking back. He went to the front door and opened it. The wind caught hold of it, and Dorian had to stop it from banging against the wall._

_The storm looked like a nightmare._

_Without a second glance, he strode into the darkness._

 

Bull looked around Dorian’s room and snarled.

‘No food, one set of clothes, no money. You can’t be that stupid, Dorian. And you left during in the middle of a thunderstorm. Do you want to catch pneumonia and die?’

Iron Bull’s mind was screaming at him that this was all his fault. He should have just talked to Dorian last night like he had been planning to. Just told him the truth. If he had done that, Dorian wouldn’t be out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the clothes on his back. But no. The Iron Bull had decided to think with his dick instead! Brilliant! Par Vollen’s finest, right here.

Bull punched the wall and felt some of the tiles snap under his knuckles.

He had to find Dorian. Bull knew he’d be the last person Dorian would want to see. Under the circumstances, Dorian might even try to set Bull on fire. Bull wouldn’t blame him. But if he could just get Dorian to listen to him, there might still be time to fix this.

Dorian hadn’t murdered him, after all. He'd had the chance. He'd had the weapon. He'd stood right over Bull's sleeping body with a knife. But Dorian hadn't taken the kill. He would have known that Bull would come after him if he didn’t end him right then. But Dorian hadn’t, all the same.

It was a weird thing to attach any hope to, but it was all Bull had.

Bull didn’t just run off, even though his whole being was yelling at him to find Dorian. Bull was good at compartmentalising, and he needed to prepare. Bull dressed quickly. He jammed as much food as he could into both his and Dorian’s packs. He sorted through the letters to find the ones he needed. When that was all done, he strode out to the stables.

Both of the horses were gone.

‘Dorian, you sneaky shit.’

 

_Dorian felt guilty for Honeysuckle as he released the stallion’s reins. The poor horse had been reluctant enough as it was to follow Dorian and Commander out into the pouring rain. But Dorian knew he couldn’t leave Honeysuckle behind if he was to be certain of escaping the Iron Bull. He steered Commander around and aligned himself within reach of Honeysuckle’s rump._

_‘Sorry, boy.’ He said and gave the horse a sharp slap. Honeysuckle reared and sped away into the darkness. Dorian watched him until he was out of sight._

_‘It’s just you and me now, Commander.’ Dorian whispered. He scratched his horse behind the ear. Dorian had never felt more alone._

_All he could do now was run. He was good at running. He’d done it his whole life._

 

Bull growled and kicked the wall of the stable with such force the whole thing shook. There was no way he’d be able to catch up to Dorian on foot. He was on horseback, he knew the area.

What he didn’t know was that there were wanted posters with his face on them.  A whole throng of greedy bandits and slavers were out there, just waiting to make some quick coin by snapping him up. That was, if Dorian didn’t get himself killed first.

Bull gritted his teeth and slammed his fist into his head between his horns. There had to be some way--

A bird tweeted again, but so much a tweet as a coo. Bull looked around.

One of the pigeons he'd sent from Castra Martis had perched on one of the stable gates. It looked tired and was still wet from flying through the storm.

Bull picked it up and read the message:

_Chief. What happened in Castra Martis? You weren’t there, and when we asked some locals about a Qunari and a mage, there was a “heated exchange”. Good news. Skinner got more teeth for that necklace she’s making. Where are you now so we can come and find your fat arse? Krem. P.S. Please tell me you didn’t fuck the mage._

Bull wanted to be happy about the first good news he’d heard all day. But his panic over Dorian played like a song in the back of his head. Did he waste time sending a message to Krem? Or did he send the pigeon back to let the boys know he was alright? Wait. Dorian had told him that the ‘Vints used magic to tell the birds where to go, right? He could even follow the bird on foot and it would lead him to the Chargers--

Or.

Another idea sparked into life. Iron Bull had to admit, it was one of his best. Krem would have thought it was the stupidest. But Krem, for all his good points, lacked creative thinking.

With a steady hand, Bull reached for the pigeon.


	22. Sospito

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, not nice things happen to some animals, so be warned. But more not nice things happen to people so be more warned about that.

Dorian was damp, hungry, tired, and sore. He couldn’t bring himself to care. All other pains and discomforts were just background noise to the shame and sadness he felt. For a while he was able to muster some anger, and that had kept his energy up. But even his rage had burnt itself out. His heartache remained.

He urged Commander on at a steady pace. Dorian knew the Iron Bull was far behind him. He was probably cursing Dorian for ruining his chances at a big pay-day. Still, Dorian wanted to get as much distance between himself and the summer home as possible. It wasn’t only Iron Bull he was leaving behind in there. It was the essence of his parents.

Dorian didn’t know where he was going. He could still recognise the area from when he was young. It was all copses, vineyards, and plains from here until Qarinus, except for one small group of hills and a cliff-side road. There was no way in hell he was going to Qarinus. That much he knew. Dorian considered going to Vyrantium. But then he remembered that was where the Chargers last were. Going there would be like getting out of the frying pan and into the fire.

That was, if the Chargers actually existed. Dorian couldn’t be certain anymore.

Better not to risk it.

When Dorian had first fled from his father’s estate, he'd planned to cross the border into Antiva or Nevarra. There were two ways of getting to Antiva. Dorian could cross the Hundred Pillars. Or he could make his way north and around the mountains to sneak through the Arlathan forest. A forest that was practically on Qarinus’ doorstep. The thought made him queasy. Nevarra, however, was two or three weeks' ride south. To get there, he would have to cross the Plains of Silence and the Minanter River. Neither seemed like delightful prospects. Besides, the bridge across the river was constantly monitored. There was always at least one legion there, checking papers and on the lookout for runaway slaves. Dorian had hoped to get across by flashing his family crest.

The thought of the crest stung him without warning. Then Dorian remembered why he didn’t have it anymore and the pain burrowed deeper.

The road took a steep incline, leading Dorian up into a small woodland area. He remembered this. Soon he would reach the cliff-top roads. If he kept going, he could be down the other side of the hills before dark.

Maybe Caraste or Neromenian had a port. They wouldn’t be as big as the one in Qarinus, but they were both seaside towns. He could find a boat, offer the captain his labour for safe passage, and leave the ship at whatever dock they came to. He might end up anywhere. The Free Marches. Rivain. Maybe he would go to the Anderfels and see who his father sent to try to track him over those desolate wastes. He would love to see the Iron Bull try to find him there.

Dorian was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the other men on horseback until they overtook him. He pulled Commander to a halt as four men in uniform blocked his path. A fifth urged his horse forward until he was beside Dorian’s. Dorian assumed he was their Tribune.

‘Didn’t you hear our horn back there?’ The Tribune asked. ‘We ordered you to stop.’

‘Oh I didn’t-- My apologies, Ser. I didn’t hear your horn.’

‘Do you have a hearing problem?’ The man was only a couple of years older than Dorian at the most. His round face didn’t help him achieve the intimidating look Dorian was sure he was trying for. Dorian forced on the smile he saved for social occasions with relatives he hated.

‘No, I am afraid I was just lost in thought, Ser. I am sorry to say I am the sort of fellow who is easily distracted.’

Dorian kept his tone airy. The Tribune sniffed.

‘We're monitoring this road. We have orders to do checks around this area for bandits and other potential threats. Do you have any identifying papers on you?’

Dorian thought of the crest and cursed himself again.

‘I’m afraid not. In fact, I don’t have anything on me besides my clothes and staff.’

‘What about your horse?

‘The only thing he has on him is me.’

The Tribune fiddled with his reins for a second, pondering the situation. Dorian had a feeling that he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. There was a good chance he was someone’s nephew, sent by his superiors to do a menial task in the middle of nowhere.

Dorian looked over at the rest of the man’s legion. Could you call five men a legion? One of them had his eyes fixed on Dorian in a disconcerting way. Dorian nodded at him. He didn’t move. Two of the others were looking at a sheet of paper. Dorian saw their eyes darting from the page to Dorian’s face.

The sun lit up the page from behind. It was fuzzy and indistinct. Dorian was just able to make out the shape of a face, and the inverted words “Wanted Alive”.

The face on the paper had a moustache.

‘Oh Kaffas!’ Dorian swore and kicked Commander’s sides. The horse brayed and bolted around the legion’s horses before dashing up the road. Dorian heard the commotion behind him. He just kicked Commander’s sides again, not daring to look around.

He could hear the horses’ hooves behind him now, coming up closer. Commander was already panting. He had been riding all night, and the Legion had fresh mounts.

‘Come on boy, don’t let me down.’

An arrow flew past Dorian’s cheek and Commander shrieked. Dorian snarled and pulled his staff from its holster on his back.

‘Maker’s balls! Do you imbeciles know what “Wanted Alive” means?!’

One of the soldiers drew up beside Dorian on his left. He fired another arrow. Dorian leant back just in time. The arrow shot past his torso. Dorian almost fell back but just managed to keep his balance.

‘Apparently you don’t!’ Dorian yelled. He swung his staff, hitting the legionnaire in the chin. The man flew backwards, head over arse, onto the ground. There was a short shout as his body got caught up in the legs of another legionnaire’s horse. The animal fell to the ground with its rider on top of it. Dorian laughed.

‘Next time, don’t--' Dorian's snappy remark was cut off by a slash of pain on his right. Dorian looked down. A small knife was embedded in his side, just above his hip. Dorian looked up. The legionnaire riding next to him grinned. He lifted his leg and kicked at Dorian.

Dorian shouted in pain as the foot connected. His shout wasn't heard over the legionnaire's. He had exploded into flames.

Dorian tried to right himself on the horse. Another arrow whizzed past, clipping Commander’s flank. The horse bucked. Dorian fell. He hit the road and rolled, the knife in his side jabbing sharply. Dorian’s staff tumbled out of his grip. His vision blacked out for a moment from the pain, but he forced himself to remain conscious. He had to run. He had to fight. Dorian rolled himself over and got to his knees.

He could feel the air as another horse rushed past him. A foot collided with his nose. He felt a burst of blood shoot out over his lips and chin.

‘Vibius! Stop!’ The Tribune shouted. ‘The poster says “alive”.’

‘He set Appius on fire!’ One of the legionaries shouted. A kick landed between Dorian shoulders and he crumpled to the dirt in a makeshift bow. ‘Besides, the note didn’t say “Wanted Alive and Pretty”.

Dorian grit his teeth and prepared for another blow.

He wasn’t prepared to hear a roar. The roar he had first heard back in the slavers' cage at sunset.

Dorian forced his head up.

There was Bull, charging forward on Honeysuckle’s back.

It was a silly thing to focus on during a moment such as this. But all Dorian could think was _Does Bull have a pigeon on his shoulder?_

Said pigeon flew off as the Iron Bull galloped forward, his warrior cry echoing through the trees. He rode pasted the Tribune and grabbed him by the face, pulling him off his horse. Dorian heard a sharp snap. The Tribune was dead before he hit the ground.

Bull laughed and steered Honeysuckle towards the soldier that had been kicking Dorian’s face. The legionnaire squealed and kicked his horse into a gallop. He wasn’t fast enough. Bull stood and dove off Honeysuckle’s back and onto the legionnaire. Both of them fell to the ground.

Bull pinned the man under him and watched him squirm.

‘Do you know how long it’s been since I killed a ‘Vint soldier?’ He asked. Bull’s fist slammed into the soldier’s face. Blood and a few teeth flew from his mouth. The man gurgled. Bull went on.

‘Years. I used to do it all the time in Seheron.’ _Punch_. ‘I’ve killed hundreds of men like you.’ _Punch_. ‘No exaggeration.’ _Punch_. A sob. _Punch_. ‘But I think the last time I did this was when another bunch of legionnaires decided they were going to make an example of one kid for deserting.’ _Punch_. ‘Do you bastards ever change?!’

_Punch._

_Punch._

_Punch._

The legionnaire had stopped moving long ago. Bull didn't see this. All he saw was the image of Dorian crumpled on the ground and bleeding.

‘You think you’re a big man, yeah?’ _Punch_. ‘Kicking a man from horse-back!’ _Punch_. ‘Taking advantage of him when he’s defenceless! _Punch. ‘Katara, bas!’ Punch. ‘Basra Vashedan! Punch_. ‘I am the Iron Bull, you fucker!’ _Punch_. ‘I am the _Katari_!’ _Punch_!

Bull stopped. His breathing was harsh. Blood covered his fist. The legionnaire’s face was gone.

He wiped his hand on his pants.

‘That was a bit of overkill.’ Bull huffed out a laugh. ‘Literally. You alright Dori--‘

Bull looked up to see Dorian was no longer kneeling in the dirt. He could just make out the mage’s back as he disappeared through the trees.

‘Oh, for fucks sake!’


	23. Sanguis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised myself I would wait until tomorrow to post this chapter. It's 12:02. That counts right?  
> Trigger warning ahoy. Self Harm, suicidal thoughts and intentions, and blood.  
> A lot of blood.

It surprised Dorian how fast he could run with a knife lodged in his side.

The Qunari chasing after him was a good incentive.

Dorian’s breaths were ragged and frantic as tripped and stumbled through the undergrowth. He plummeted downhill, barely managing to stay on his feet. Dorian had to keep spitting blood as he went to stop himself from choking on it.

He could hear the Iron Bull shouting after him, but Dorian didn’t pick up the words. His pulse was pounding through his head, drowning out all other sounds.

Dorian tripped and fell forwards. He rolled a couple of meters but scrambled back to his feet. The knife in his side dug deeper. He would have screamed if he'd had any breath left over.

The Iron Bull was close now. Literally on his heels. Dorian felt Bull’s fingertips snatch at his shirt.

Dorian didn’t have his staff, but he spun around and lobbed a fireball at the Iron Bull anyway. It was small and weak, but Bull cried out when it grazed his bicep. Dorian smelt burnt flesh. He didn’t stop running.

‘Dorian!’ The Iron Bull bellowed, still behind him, still chasing him at full speed. ‘Just stop!’

Had anyone in the history of Thedas ever stopped running when their pursuer asked them to?

If they hadn’t, Dorian wasn’t going to be the first.

Dorian burst through the tree line and came to a sudden halt.

Of course there had to be a cliff right here. The Maker just loved screwing him over, didn't he? It wouldn’t be the life of Dorian Pavus if divine forces didn't put a bloody cliff in his path!

Dorian pushed all his mana into his fists. They flared up into balls of fire. There was no way Dorian could win against the Iron Bull in a fight. Not with a knife wound. Not on the side of a cliff.

But that didn’t mean Dorian was going to make it easy for him.

He heard the Iron Bull break through the tree line. Willing himself not to shake, Dorian turned to look him in the eye.

 _I should have stabbed out that eye._ Dorian thought.

The Iron Bull wasn’t looking at Dorian’s face. His stare was locked onto the knife’s hilt protruding from just above Dorian’s hip. Dorian's white cotton shirt had a dark crimson stain spreading through it.

‘Dorian--‘ The Iron Bull kept his hands palms-up. His voice was steady. ‘You need to let me look at that.’

‘Of course.’ Dorian sneered. It was impressive how much sarcasm he could muster while in such pain. ‘You wouldn’t want to bring damaged goods back to my father, would you, Iron Bull? Or should I call you Hissrad?’

The Iron Bull’s eye snapped back up to Dorian’s face and Dorian thought he saw a flicker of shame there.

‘Dorian, I can explain.’ The Iron Bull stepped forward. ‘This is not what I wanted. I get why you don’t trust--‘

A ball of fire hit the ground at the Iron Bull’s feet. He hissed and shrank back. Dorian glared up at Iron Bull like he was every evil thing that had ever lived.

‘Take one more step towards me, Qunari, and I swear I will end your miserable life.’

Dorian tried to stand tall, but his head was beginning to swim. He blinked a couple of times to try to refocus the world.

‘No you won’t.’

Dorian tilted his head. ‘I beg your pardon?’ The Iron Bull lifted his chin. He was so tall. So imposing. But Dorian wasn’t going to cower like a child before him.

‘If you were going to kill me, you would have killed me last night. It would have been the smart thing to do. It would have been easy.’ The Iron Bull shook his head. ‘No, Dorian, we both know you don’t have it in you.’

Dorian swallowed. He knew his anguish showed on his face.

He was right. Dorian knew it. The Iron Bull knew it. Dorian was a coward.

He let his head drop.

‘You’re right.’ Dorian smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile. ‘We both know I am too weak for that.’

‘Dorian, there’s no need to--‘

Dorian let the fire engulfing his left hand go out. He reached for the knife handle and tugged. He wished he was able to stifle the whimper that slithered out of him along with the blade. The blood from his side poured more freely without the knife to plug the wound. He felt its warmth trickle down his side and along his leg. Dorian raised the knife and rested it against his neck. He could feel the bite of it against the artery. For the first time in their acquaintance, Dorian saw the mighty Iron Bull look horrified.

‘I may not have the nerve to kill you.’ Dorian said. ‘But I’d rather die than go back.’

‘I’m not taking you back to your father!’ The Iron Bull shouted. Dorian could see that one eye darting all over him. It was obvious he was trying to do calculations. Could he could make a dash at Dorian without getting fried? Or falling over the cliff? Or before Dorian sliced his own throat. ‘Dorian, please. You need to listen to me!’

‘I found the letter, Bull!’ Dorian spat. ‘Don’t treat me like an idiot! My father hired you to hit me over the head and drag me back to him. I'm sure this time his little blood-magic ritual will go perfectly.’ Dorian looked down. There was almost as much red as white. Dorian laughed, high and hysterical. ‘You think this much blood would be enough for him?’

Iron Bull snarled. ‘I know you found your father’s letter, Dorian! And I was hired to track you down. But not by him! I hadn’t even read that letter until this morning!’

Dorian fingers slipped a little on the slick knife hilt. He felt the edge of the blade nick his neck.

‘Do you expect me to believe that?!’ Dorian asked. ‘I am not some gullible fool who will buy whatever lie you throw my way just because we fucked.’

‘Dorian, I didn’t know about it. Half of those letters I haven’t even had the time to open.’

Dorian’s mind flashed back to that dim hallway covered in spilt letters. He remembered recognising his father’s letter by Pavus crest impressed in the wax seal.

If Bull had read his father’s letter, wouldn’t the seal have been broken?

Dorian saw Iron Bull had taken a step closer. He pulled the knife tight against his jawline. The Iron Bull stopped.

‘Please.’ Dorian would never have thought Bull was capable of begging until this moment. ‘I’ll swear on whatever you want me to swear on. By whatever stupid gods you believe in. I am not going to take you back to your father. But you have to let me stop the bleeding.’

‘Who hired you?’ Dorian said. He knew he was swaying slightly. It wouldn’t be long before he couldn’t stand. ‘You told me that someone hired you to track me down.’

‘Yes.’ Bull said. ‘You were the job in Qarinus.’

‘If not my father, then who?’

‘We’ve never met. I told you that!’

‘A name, Bull! Give me a name.’

‘Some magister named Maevaris Tilani! That’s all I know.’

Dorian’s arm dropped without him even realising. The knife fell to the ground. The flames around his right hand flickered out.

‘Mae?’ Dorian said.

Dorian was only vaguely aware of his knees giving way and Bull rushing towards him before he sank into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never said which Magister Bull was working for.


	24. Arbiterium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after a longish break, we're back. The chapter is also longer too, which I guess is nice. Thank you for all your kind reviews so far.

\- He was moving. No. He wasn’t moving. Someone was moving him. Dorian could feel someone’s hands under him. Someone’s arms. Something jostled him about. His side was blazing. His head rested on the person’s chest. Under his ear he could hear the sound of breathing -

\- He felt the sharp sting of something? It was like an insect bite, but it didn’t have the same burn to it—just a sharpness. He felt a strange sensation. The skin and flesh along his side was tugged about, and the pull of thread lacing the wound together. It hurt, but then again the whole area hurt. The pain was nothing when compared to the weirdness of the sensations.

‘Stitches is going to kill me when he sees the terrible job I'm doing.’ A voice said. Dorian didn't know if it was talking to him or just speaking to itself. ‘I haven’t had to do shit like this since Seheron.’

Dorian wanted to try to stop voice from doing what it was doing. Try to stop the uncomfortable feeling. But that would mean moving, and Dorian didn't think he could do that anymore. He turned his head to the side and whimpered, but that used up all his energy -

\- Dorian felt the cold pressure of glass against his lips. A vial was forced into his mouth. The taste of elfroot flooded in. It filled his mouth, assaulted his sinuses, lay flat against his tongue. Dorian tried to turn his face away and gag, but a strong hand locked onto his jaw, keeping his head still. Dorian pushed against the hand holding his chin. But his arms were so weak he could barely lift them, let alone push the hand away. The vial withdrew, and Dorian went to spit the vile taste out. A hand clamped over his nose and mouth.

‘No. No spitting this out, big guy. You have to drink it all.’

Dorian kicked his feet and struggled, his lungs screaming for air. Another hand landed across his chest, pinning him down while he squirmed. Dorian relented and swallowed the last of the potion, his head swimming from lack of breath. The hand let go of his face, and he drew in a deep gasp that made his whole body ache. Fingers carded through his hair with a soothing pressure.

‘That’s it, Dorian. Good job. It’s all okay.’ -

\- His skin was suddenly cold, and someone was moving around again. Why wouldn't they just leave him alone? The fabric of his pants was peeled away. A small segment of Dorian’s mind rebelled against this indignity. The rest of him couldn’t bring itself to care. Soon Dorian felt his legs being threaded through some new pants and a shirt being tugged over his arms and face. He remembered Livia playing with a rag-doll as a little girl. She’d pulled it along by the limbs, all the others dangling lifelessly, tossing it this way and that. Whoever was using him as a toy was far gentler than she had ever been. He was laid down again and felt the rough scratch of a warm blanket -

...

Something was flickering.

Dorian’s eyes were closed, but he could see the lights moving on the other side of his eyelids. He smelt smoke. He tried to shift his position. Something tugged at his wrists.

Shackles.

Dorian’s eyes snapped open. He looked around. He was in a tent. Andraste’s sacred tits, where the hell had a tent come from? He was lying on a bedroll, on his side, his hands cuffed behind him. He tugged at them again, but they remained firm. Dorian didn’t think he had enough strength to summon a spell. He decided against trying, in case he needed that mana for later. His lower body was wrapped in a rough blanket that had tangled around his legs while he slept. Something on the wall of the tent caught Dorian’s eye. Even though it was written on the outside and he was looking at it from within, Dorian could see that there was something printed onto the canvas. Dorian squinted and stared at the faded markings.

It was the imperial sigil.

The memory of the Legion and their attack flooded back.

Kaffas, he’d been captured.

Dorian rolled onto his back, ignoring the strain it put on his wrists, and tried to sit up. His side shrieked in pain. Dorian fell onto his back again, panting heavily. Sweat was already breaking out on his forehead. He sat up again, this time blocking out the agony in his side. His head swam from being upright, his eyes losing focus. His sight slowly returned, and he managed to get his knees under himself. With his hands behind his back and his side on fire, movement was difficult. He managed to make his way to the flap of the tent and climb outside. He struggled to his feet and looked around.

It was dusk, and that alone rattled Dorian. How long had he been out? He was at a camp. A proper camp. Three tents had been set up in a semi-circle around a fire. They all bore the imperial sigil. This camp must have belonged to the legion before--

‘Dorian, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!’

Dorian turned saw Bull standing a few feet away. There was a wide white bandage around his bicep from where Dorian’s fireball had grazed him. Bull was carrying a water bowl in one hand and a rag in the other. Dorian’s mind threw at him the image of Bull standing in the doorway of the master suite, just last night. How carefully and gently he had scrubbed Dorian clean after they had--

Dorian shook his head. No. There was no time for sentimentality. He turned and tried to stumble away, but Bull caught him after a few steps and swept his feet from under him. Dorian writhed as Bull carried him back to the tent.

‘Bull, put me down!’ He spat as Bull ducked his horns under the tent’s flap.

‘What do you think I'm doing?’

Bull dropped Dorian back onto his bed-roll and pulled the blanket back over his legs. ‘If you pulled those stitches, Dorian, I swear--‘

Dorian sat up again, ignoring Bull’s glare of frustration. ‘Bull, what are we doing here? This is an imperial campsite. That Legion--‘

‘Was in the middle of nowhere and probably didn't report in for months at a time. They aren't going to be needing this campsite anymore. Now stay here. I’ll be back in two seconds.’

Bull disappeared out the tent flap again.

Dorian looked over his shoulder at the shackles Bull had strapped on him. They fit loosely and had a longer chain. But it was clear Dorian wouldn’t be able to slip his hands out of the cuffs, or move them too far apart. He could see runes etched into the metalwork as well.

‘Those soldiers were idiots, but they had good equipment.’

Dorian jumped at the voice as Bull re-entered the tent. The bowl and the cloth were back. Dorian shuffled himself as far back into the corner of the tent as possible. Bull sat next to Dorian and set the bowl aside. ‘Food. Potions. Bandages. Magic blocking cuffs and everything.’ Dorian snarled.

‘Bull, release me this instant!’

‘No.’

‘Bull!’

‘You ran off in the middle of a storm with no supplies! You almost got yourself kicked to death by soldiers! You set me on fire,’ Bull gestured to his arm, ‘you tried to cut your own throat, and you nearly rolled off the side of a cliff after you collapsed from blood loss. So no. Right now I wouldn't trust you with scissors. The cuffs say on until I'm sure you’re not going to do anything stupid.’

Dorian could see the anger radiating of Bull as he dipped the cloth into the water. Dorian sneered.

‘And you think you deserve the high ground? Tell me, Iron Bull. How long were you planning on selling me out?’

‘It wasn't like that!’ Bull snapped. Bull scrunched his eye shut and forced himself to take a deep breath. ‘Look, here is how things are going to go. I'm going to clean up your face. I'm going to check your side again. Then were going to sit here and tell each other the truth. No half-truths. No leaving out inconvenient facts. I’ll tell you what I've been keeping from you, and you’ll tell me what you've been keeping from me. After that, and only if I'm sure you’re not going to try and blast my face off or make a break for it, I will undo the shackles. Good plan?’

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘Nope.’

Dorian glared. ‘Are you even capable of the truth, Bull? You've been lying to me since the moment we met.’

Bull looked down for a moment. His mouth was a hard line. ‘I guess you’re going to have to decide that for yourself.’

Bull wrung out the water from the cloth. He reached out and cupped Dorian’s cheek. The mage stiffened under the touch.

‘Stay still.’ Bull murmured holding the corner of the cloth between his fingers. ‘It’s going to sting.’

‘You’re going to cause me pain?’ Dorian sneered. “I am _shocked_.’

Bull didn't respond to the barb. He just set to work.

It did sting, but not as much as Dorian expected. The worst part was when Bull tried to clean the matted blood out of his moustache. Bull’s thumb, the one from the hand cupping Dorian’s face, reached across and stroked the bridge of Dorian’s nose. Dorian winced.

‘It’s sore, but the soldier didn't break it.’ Bull said. He dropped the wash-cloth back in the bowl. He reached back and cupped Dorian’s head in both hands. He tilted it from side to side. ‘No idea how he missed. I saw the kick. I thought you were going to black out.’

‘Well, you managed to break his nose.’ Dorian said, wishing he could turn his face away from Bull’s. ‘And his jaw. And his eye-socket. And his teeth…’

Bull released Dorian’s cheeks, seemingly satisfied with the state of Dorian’s face. The probing gaze remained.

‘I'm going to check on your side, if that’s alright.’

‘You may as well get it over with.’

Bull nodded and lifted up the hem of Dorian’s shirt. Dorian looked down. A swathe of white bandages wrapped around his mid-section. He could feel them tighten against his ribs whenever he breathed in. A tiny slither of red was just starting to break through the dressing. Dorian realised he was wearing the undershirt and pants of one of the legionaries.

‘Did you undress me while I was unconscious?’ Dorian spluttered.

‘No, Dorian, I left you in the damp and blood-soaked clothes you passed out in.’ Bull said, stroking his thumb along the slash of blood. ‘I did the best I could with the stitches, but I normally leave all that to… well… Stitches. I’d like to change the bandages again. But I'm guessing you’d rather wait until morning.’

‘I’d rather you never touch me again.’ Dorian said. Something flickered behind Bull’s eye. His hands fell away. Bull leant back and crossed his legs.

‘I know you’re hurt, Dorian.’ Dorian could tell Bull didn’t just mean physically. He was looking at the water bowl instead of Dorian. ‘And I know it’s my fault. I should have told you sooner what my job was. I know it doesn’t mean much, but I never wanted to hurt you.’

Dorian felt a pang of empathy light up his insides for a moment. He stomped it down. This was all Bull’s doing. He didn’t deserve Dorian’s sympathy.

‘I still have no proof that you told me the truth about Mae. It’s far more likely you’re working for my father than for her. You could have picked up Mae’s name anywhere.’

Bull reached into his boot and tugged out one of his letters. This one was worn around the edges and had many creases. It was clear Bull had folded and refolded several times.

‘I got this letter a few weeks ago in Nevarra. I had never heard of your friend before then. I sent it to my supervisors in Par Vollen, asking for their opinion. They thought it was a good opportunity to get inside Tevinter for some intel. They don’t care about the job as long as I bring back the goods.’ Bull unfolded the letter as he spoke. He hesitated for a moment, before shifting closer to Dorian, holding the page out for the bound man to read. Dorian leant forward, his eyes straining to pick out the words in the dimness of the tent.

 

_Dearest the Iron Bull (I have been informed you prefer the article)_

_I expect, what with you being a Qunari mercenary and everything, that you rarely get letters of employment from magisters in Tevinter. I expect it’s rarer for you to accept such offers. However, tales of your exploits in Nevarra and Ferelden have reached across our borders—they are all very colourful and flattering, I assure you—and I find myself in need of assistance. The matter is one that requires delicacy. I have come to believe that hiring someone outside of the typical Tevinter channels may better suit my purposes._

_A few months ago, a good friend of mine fell out of the public eye. No one knows why he disappeared, but rumours abound. It has been an open secret among the Tevinter elite that the man’s life-choices have become a source of great contention between himself and his father. The gossip mongers do not know the half of it. For a long time, I have dreaded what may befall my friend if his father decided he’d had enough of his son’s defiance. I fear that day has come. I have recently heard the report that said father may have taken his son by force and secreted the poor boy away at his estate in Qarinus. I have no evidence of this, nor could I expect any truth from confronting the father. Another rumour suggests the son has somehow managed to escape. But I have not been able to verify this either. I dread to think what my friend might be enduring at this moment. Is he imprisoned? Or is he fleeing from his own family?_

_Your mission, should you choose to accept it, would be to discover the location of my dear friend. Once you have done this, if possible, bring him safely and quietly to me. I have no idea how you and your Mighty Chargers would achieve this. But I suspect with your vast experience you would be able to devise a suitable course of action._

_Money is no object._

_You have probably heard that phrase bandied about a lot during your career. So I want to clarify that I’m not simply using a popular cliché for effect._

_Money is no object._

_If this interests you, please meet me in Qarinus at the time and date enclosed. I will give you the details then. I have also included border papers for you and your men. This matter is of the utmost secrecy. I trust you and your men will do as little to draw attention to yourselves as possible. Come as quickly as you can. Time is of the essence._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Maevaris Tilani._

 

‘That reckless, foolish woman.’

Dorian hadn't realised he was tearing up until a wet mark landed on the page. He felt Bull’s fingers curl around the back of his neck, stroking along his hair-line.

‘Hey. It’s alright, Dorian.’ Bull soothed. ’It’s all fine. I've got you.’

‘She’s going to get herself killed one of these days, if she keeps doing stupid things like this.’ Dorian sniffed.  ‘I'm sorry. It’s just-- In the Magisterium, you can never be certain.’

‘Certain of what?’

‘Of whether people’s actions are sincere or part of some political ploy.’

Dorian willed his voice to steady. It wasn't working. ‘I've always liked Mae. It's impossible not to. She's the definition of charisma. But some small part of me always wondered whether she just wanted me in her pocket to use at a later date. But this is dangerous, even for her. If my father knew what she was attempting to do, he could destroy her.’ Dorian laughed. ‘Now I feel wretched for doubting her motives.’

Bull put the letter on the bedroll beside them. He brought his hand back up and laid it on Dorian’s sternum. With one hand on Dorian’s chest and the other on the back of his neck, Dorian breathed in a sigh. There was something so comforting and grounding about those hands weighing him down.

‘Is it that hard for you to believe that people could genuinely care about you?’

Dorian didn't answer. He didn't trust himself to speak.

Bull lifted his hands and reached behind Dorian’s back. He heard something click. Bull pulled the shackles from Dorian’s wrists. They clattered as they hit the ground. Dorian brought his hands out in front of him and set them in his lap. Now they were free, he didn't know what to do with them. Bull reached out and took one of Dorian’s wrists in his hands. Bull rubbed along the red marks the cuffs had left behind.

‘I wouldn't worry. Your friend Mae is smart.’ Bull’s voice was low and quiet. ‘You’ll notice that she didn't say any names in the letter. That way if someone found the letter, no one could get back to your father. She was probably suspicious of me, too. How could she be sure I wouldn’t send word to your father and try and get a better price?’

‘I never thought of that.’ Dorian said. Bull went on.

‘But it also meant I was working blind. When the slavers chucked me in that cage with you, I had no clue who you were. For all I knew, you were just some random mage. When you told me that you were a scribe/envoy, I knew something was off with your story. But I just thought you were runaway slave or something. It only hit me when I saw your wanted poster in Castra Martis.’

Dorian looked up, horrified. ‘They had a wanted poster in Castra Martis?’

‘Yeah. Don’t worry. I took it down. I needed to send it to Maevaris to confirm you were the guy she’d hired me to find.’

Bull let go of Dorian’s wrist and picked up the other. He ran his fingers over the marks in the same methodical way.

‘When did she confirm my identity?’ Dorian asked.

Bull shrugged. ‘The pigeon that came before the storm. It wasn't from the Chargers. It was from Maevaris. That’s why, when we were at your summer home, I started asking you about your “master”.’

‘You knew. You knew that whole time--’

‘Yeah, I knew. But I didn't know whether this Maevaris woman was telling the truth. For all I knew, she had made the whole thing up as a way for me to hunt down one of her political rivals or some shit. You ‘Vints, man. I don’t know how there are still so many of you, with all the backstabbing you get up to. If I were running things in Par Vollen, I would just let you guys kill each other off and sweep in after the dust settles.’

‘What made you believe Mae’s story?’

‘The way you freaked out when I asked you if you ran.’ Bull said.

Dorian pulled his hands out of Bull’s hold. Bull let him. Dorian wrapped his hands around his waist and hated himself for feeling like a child.

Bull leaned in, careful not to crowd but enough to press.

‘I didn't know that I had your father’s letter on me, Dorian. I just shoved it in my boot to read later. Honestly, I'm a bit pissed off that so many magisters think I am the go-to guy for man-hunts.’

Dorian almost felt himself smile. He didn't, but it was close.

‘I believe you.’ Said Dorian.

‘You do?’

‘I remember breaking the seal on my father’s letter. It's only in retrospect that I realise it was unopened. Besides, why would you keep it on you and risk me finding it?’

Bull smiled and nodded. ‘That’s good.’

‘I haven’t forgiven you.’ Dorian snapped. ‘Don’t think you can just flash that smile at me and suddenly everything is okay. You should have told me you were working for Mae.’

‘I was going to!’ Bull said. ‘But then we got… distracted.’

‘Sex will do that. It’s distracting.’

‘But remember how I said we needed to talk in the morning? I was going to tell you all this and give you the choice.’

‘What choice?’

Bull looked down to the ground. He reached up and fiddled with the buckle on his harness.

‘To see whether you wanted to go to Qarinus and met up with Mae or… you know… consider my offer.’

Dorian narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. ‘What offer?’

‘To join the Chargers,’ Bull said. ‘To come with me.’

Dorian blinked. ‘That was a real offer?’

Bull rolled his eye towards the sky (well, the tent roof) before leaning forward. He put his hands on Dorian’s shoulders and turned him towards him.

‘Dorian, I am beginning to see that a lot of people have fucked you over during your lifetime. And whether I meant to or not, I am one of them. I'm sorry about that. I can’t say with words how sorry I am. But I am not lying when I say I want you to stick around. In fact, that was kind of the reason I put off telling you about the job. Once you knew, I’d thought you’d demand to go back to Qarinus and see Mae, and then that would be it. For us.’

Dorian swallowed. It felt like there was something hard and sharp in his throat.

‘There’s an “us”?’

Bull smiled, and Dorian didn’t know how someone like Bull could smile so softly.

‘If you want there to be.’

And Dorian wanted to say yes and kiss Bull and hold him tight in his arms, because Bull was offering him something he never thought he’d ever have. But a question gnawed at Dorian. A single, hideous question that Dorian knew it would be better to leave unanswered. But Dorian knew if he didn't ask it, the question would sit in the back of his mind. Whenever he kissed Bull, whenever Bull touched him, it would be there. Dorian wouldn't be able to stand that question. It would eat him alive.

‘Bull, I need to know something.’ Dorian’s tongue felt think in his mouth as he spoke. ‘You said that you only took this job because the Ben-Hassrath told you to. Is that correct?’

Bull narrowed his eye and turned his face to the side. ‘Yes?’ he said. It was clear he didn't know where this was going. Dorian licked his lips.

‘If, by chance, you had opened my father’s letter first, instead of Mae’s, would you have dragged me back to him? If that’s what your superiors demanded?’

Bull’s face tightened. ‘But I didn't open his letter first. And I told you, my superiors don’t care about what Mae or your father wanted me to do. They just want--‘

‘Intel from Tevinter, yes, you said as much.’ Dorian’s voice grew sharp. ‘But if you ruined a mission, you would burn your bridges. You would waste an opportunity to come back and find out more. I need to know--‘

‘Dorian, don’t--’

‘Would you have taken me back to my father, Bull?’

The Iron Bull hung his head. He didn't meet Dorian’s eyes.

‘Yes. Yes, I would have taken you back.’

The words fell like a stone between them. Dorian’s mouth tasted like ash and all his insides seemed too heavy.

After a long silence, he spoke.

‘Well. Thank you for that honesty, at least, Bull.’

‘Dorian, please. It doesn't matter what could have happened. I am working for Mae.’

‘Yes. Mae.’ Dorian said. ‘You are working for her. And she has hired you to deliver me safely to her. We should stick to that original plan, don’t you agree?’

Bull didn't respond for a moment.

‘Is that what you want?’ Bull finally asked.

 _No._ Dorian thought. _Just for once, I want someone to choose me over their duty, or the legacy, or propriety. I want to matter to someone. As selfish as that sounds, I want to come first._

‘Yes.’ Dorian said. ‘Take me back to Mae. She put herself at such a great risk for me. The least I owe her is a thank you.’

Bull didn't look at Dorian’s face, but nodded slowly. ‘If that’s your decision.’

Bull took the bowl and the cloth from the tent floor and turned towards the tent flap.

‘You should get some sleep. We've got a lot of ground to cover to reach Qarinus.’

Dorian watched as Bull crawled out of the tent. When he was sure he was gone, Dorian laid himself back down on his bedroll. He allowed the tears to flow from beneath his eyelids until weariness overtook him.


	25. Exsolvo

Morning came. Bull had kept watch all night. He wasn't about to wake Dorian. The guy needed his rest, and he knew Dorian didn't want to see him right now. Instead, he had stoked the fire and listened to the sounds of crickets.

Dorian had made his decision, and Bull just had to learn to respect that. Bull didn't understand why a “what if” mattered so much to Dorian, but it did. Bull could have lied. He was Hissrad, after all. He could have said “No Dorian, of course I wouldn't have taken you back” and done so with such conviction that he was sure Dorian would have believed him completely. Or, at least, Dorian would have convinced himself Bull was telling the truth. Dorian would have wanted it to be true so much, he'd have disregarded whatever doubt remained.

But Bull didn't want to lie to him. Dorian had almost gotten himself killed, when he thought Bull was lying to him before. Honesty and trustworthiness, it seemed, were the two things that mattered the most to Dorian. He could not tolerate lies.

But Bull had told Dorian the truth, and he had still lost him anyway.

If there was one thing Bull had learnt to do well in Seheron, it was to lock down his emotions and focus on a problem. And there was a problem. He was missing something. Bull hated that feeling. It was like when you lost a tooth and your tongue kept finding the gap. If Dorian had just said that he’d prefer to go back to Mae, Bull would have been disappointed, sure. But it wouldn't have left him feeling this uneasy. This wasn't Dorian choosing the option he wanted. This was another way for Dorian to run. Bull was certain of that.

Bull clenched his fist. He should have pushed more. He should have found out exactly why Dorian had run away in the first place. That was the root of all this. That was where the answers were. Back on that cliff-side, Dorian had said something. Bull hadn't been paying attention, his concentration locked on to Dorian and that knife. But words were there, at the back of his mind, and he just couldn't get a grasp on them.

Dorian emerged from his tent, already dressed. The clothes he had bought for himself in Castra Martis had been completely ruined. Bull didn't wear shirts, but he knew there was no way of getting bloodstains out of cotton one. So Dorian was back in his old robes again, all torn and dirty. Beyond that, Dorian looked composed. He had fixed his hair and moustache somehow, without the help of a mirror. And while it was obvious he was still stiff, he moved with grace and elegance. Dorian would have looked, to the layman, completely casual.

Bull was not a layman.

‘Good morning, Iron Bull.’ Dorian said, as he sat near the camp fire. He didn't sit right next to Bull, but he was within arm’s reach. Bull had expected him to take the seat farthest away from him that morning. ‘You ready to set off soon? We don’t want to waste daylight.’

Bull looked over Dorian with a critical eye. His posture was laid-back and open. His voice was light and jovial. He had a pleasant smile on his face, but it never reached his eyes.

Something stabbed inside Bull’s gut at the sight. Dorian’s mask was good. Near perfection. No one could make a mask like that without years of fine tuning and frequent use. For Dorian to be this good at concealing his emotions, he would have had to have done this performance daily. This wasn't just Dorian’s typical walls. This was a high-class offensive strategy. This was a come-at-me-with-all-you've-got-you-bastard-I-dare-you expression.

And Dorian had that seamless mask turned on him.

So this was how Dorian was going to play it. No barbs, no tears, no glares or accusations. That was all done. All that was left was this veneer of civility and courteousness.

Bull would have rather gotten burnt again.

He pushed those emotions away for now. Bull still needed to turn his attention on the problems he had right in front of him. He would deal with Dorian’s mask and all it implied later.

Bull pulled the lid off the pot that was dangling over the fire. Inside, a stew was bubbling away. He scooped up some of the contents into a bowl and handed it to Dorian.

‘We need breakfast first, and to work out our plan. Then we’ll pack up and head off.’

Dorian looked down at the stew. ‘If it’s all the same, Iron Bull, I would much prefer to forgo breakfast and get straight on the road. My stomach isn't completely back to its normal state.’

 _You want to spend as little time as possible talking to me_. Bull thought.

Bull shook his head. ‘The food’s not up for debate, Dorian. You lost too much blood from that knife wound, and you haven’t eaten in three days.’

Dorian looked up, his mouth open. ‘Three days?!’

‘That’s how long you were out for.’ Bull leant over and pulled a potion vial out of his pack. He tossed it over to Dorian, who was barely able to catch it and not spill his stew. ‘You have to drink all that too. And I'm re-doing your bandages before we ride out.’

‘Do you mother the Chargers this much?’ Dorian asked. He put the potion on the grass next to him. Then, hesitantly, Dorian swallowed a spoonful of stew.

Bull wanted to say “If you joined them, you could find out first hand”. But he didn't. Instead, he just got himself a serving of stew and began to eat.

‘I've been thinking about our options.’ Bull said between mouthfuls. ‘We could head to Qarinus straight away, or we could double back to your fa- to the summer home again.’

Dorian stiffened, and a small, unworthy part of Bull felt good about getting a reaction out of him.

‘Why? What’s the point of delaying our trip longer?’

‘To meet up with the Chargers. I thought I could send them a pigeon and they’d meet us there. The house is secluded, we could stock up on extra supplies, and Stitches could have a proper look at your side. If we went straight for Qarinus, I don’t think the Chargers would catch up with us.’

Dorian paused. He seemed to be turning the problem over in his head.

‘That seems fair enough. We can’t be more than a day and a half’s ride from the summer house. Less, considering you managed to catch up with me.’ Dorian’s brow furrowed. ‘How did you catch up with me? More than that, how did you find your horse again? I distinctly remember letting him out so you couldn't follow.’

Bull sat up and rested an arm on his knee. ‘I sent him a letter.’

Dorian tilted his head. ‘You sent your horse a letter.’

Bull nodded and cocked his head towards one of the tents. On it sat the pigeon Dorian would have sworn he had hallucinated when Bull attacked the legion.

‘You said they could find anyone, regardless of whether the sender knew their location or not. I sent Honeysuckle a letter, and I followed the bird straight to him. I did the same thing to find you. Simple.’

‘That’s astounding.’ Dorian said. There was a smile playing on the corners of his lips. ‘I would have never thought of it.’

‘I also used it to find Commander while you were blacked-out.'

Bull pointed over his shoulder. Both Honeysuckle and Commander were tethered to a tree, not too far from camp. They seemed content to graze on the damp grass within their reach. ‘I was planning on getting the Chargers to follow the bird back to the summer home. Seemed safer than writing down co-ordinates.’

‘That’s genius, Bull.’ Dorian said. But then the smile faltered, and Bull saw Dorian begin to pull on his disguise again. ‘Yes. I think that’s the best course of action. You've been away from your men for far too long, haven’t you?’

‘I've missed my boys, yeah.’ Bull agreed. ‘I don’t know what’s been happening to them while they've been on the road. What sort of scraps they've gotten into. I don’t like the thought of them out there alone, without me to watch their backs.’

‘They’re a group of professional mercenaries, Bull. Not children. I'm certain they've been faring better than you have this past week.’

Dorian took another bite of stew. ‘Still. It will be nice to finally put some faces to the names. I'm certain they’ll make excellent company.’

_You want to meet up with the Chargers so you don’t have to travel alone with me anymore._

Bull ignored this thought.

‘If we get back to the summer house, I’d be able to go over things with Krem. And make sure everyone got a proper night’s rest before we set out again in the morning.’

‘Speaking of, when was the last time you slept Bull? I hope I won’t insult you by stating that you look exhausted.’

Bull raised his eyebrows. ‘Now who’s the one mothering?’

‘That’s not an answer, Bull.’ Dorian said. Bull thought he could see concern lines at the corners of Dorian’s eyes. He wasn't certain. The light was still dim, and it could just be wishful thinking on his part.

‘I kept watch last night, and I stayed awake to check on you when you were unconscious. But I'm fine. I've had longer stretches without sleep back in Seheron.’

‘You may have failed to notice, Bull, but we are not currently in Seheron.’ Dorian said. In spite of his carefully cultivated disinterested tone, Bull could pick up a sharpness beneath it. Dorian picked the potion up and drained its contents in one long gulp, grimacing at the taste. Then he passed the bowl back to Bull. Bull frowned. It was only half empty. ‘Get a couple of hours’ sleep, Bull. I’ll dig through the legionnaires’ things and see if there’s anything worth taking.’

‘Dorian, don’t overdo things. If you pull those stitches--‘

Dorian stood. ‘I’m fine, Bull. Trust me. You just worry about yourself. I’ll wake you in a couple of hours.’

Dorian wandered away to check inside one of the empty tents. Bull watched him go.

He still cared. In spite of himself, Dorian couldn’t help but look out for Bull’s well-being. Bull shook his head, a small spark of hope lighting in his chest. Was that something Bull wanted to work on? Should he push Dorian just a little and see if he could get him to open up. It would be hard, leaving Dorian raw and exposed, but then Bull would be able to put him back together again. Maybe he could--

_But would you be doing that for Dorian or yourself?_

No. Bull wasn’t going to manipulate Dorian into changing his mind. Bull knew he had done a lot of damage there. It wasn't deliberate, but it was his fault. Bull could have delved a little deeper earlier, before Dorian had lost all his trust in him. Maybe if he had, things would have worked out better. But Bull had lost that chance. It was kinder to let Dorian go. Mae would look after him. She could keep him safe.

No. They would meet up with the Chargers. They would go to Qarinus. Dorian would reunite with Mae, and the Chargers would get paid.

And that would be the end on this little adventure.

It was better that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a nowhere chapter but things will pick up a bit next time.


	26. Captum

The cliff-side roads were not far from the Pavus’ summer home. But they were hard to navigate if you didn't know the area. That’s why Bull had let Dorian take the lead. The two of them were making progress, but it was slow going. They had sent the pigeon on ahead of them. Hopefully the boys would be able to make it to the summer home in the next couple of days.

They had managed to ride until a little after midday before Dorian grew pale.

‘You doing okay, big guy?’ Bull asked, eyeing Dorian as he swayed in his saddle.

‘Fine.’ Dorian gasped. ‘Just a bit stiff from riding.’

 _Bullshit_ thought Bull, but he didn’t say it out loud.

‘You need another potion?’

Dorian shook his head. ‘Those blasted potions are half the problem. I feel like I’m on the verge of bursting.’

Bull pulled on Honeysuckle’s reins and came halt. ‘Piss stop it is then.’

Dorian slowed his horse and turned in his saddle to look at Bull. ‘Really? We’re going to waste time on this?’

‘As good a reason to take a break as any.’ Bull said as he hopped out of his saddle. ‘Besides, I don’t think Commander would appreciate it if you pissed all over him.’

Dorian didn’t wait for Bull to offer to help him down. He just swung his leg over the side and slid of the horse. Bull winced as Dorian landed, the mage stifling a grunt of pain.

‘You alright?’ Bull asked. Dorian nodded.

‘I’ll be better once I’ve relieved myself.’

Bull tied the horses’ reins to a tree branch and followed Dorian off the road. Dorian raised an eyebrow.

‘It’s not necessary that you join me.’

‘You’re not the only one with a bladder. Anyway, remember what happened last time you told me you were just going to take a quick piss?’ Bull asked. He knew his voice was a shred too hard, but Dorian didn’t comment. He just found a suitable tree and fiddled with his pants. Bull turned his back to Dorian and did the same.

The two men urinated in silence. There was no poetic way of describing it.

When Bull was finished and had tucked everything away, he turned around. Dorian was leaning one hand against the tree. His stance was all wrong, and Bull could see the arm he was propping himself up with was shaking. A sheen of sweat had broken out on Dorian's forehead.

‘Dorian, I think we’ve gone far enough for today.’ Bull said. Dorian shook his head.

‘I’ve told you, I’m fine.’

‘Yes, you have. And I’m telling you, I don’t believe you. The summer house will still be there in the morning.’

Dorian’s pleasant mask slipped a fraction. His eyes narrowed.

‘Bull, would you please stop fussing.’

Dorian pushed himself away from the tree and straightened. Bull saw a glimmer of pain pass Dorian’s face, and then it was gone. ‘I realise you take your job seriously, and I respect that. But I promise you I am not going to fall off the perch before we reach Qarinus. Mae’s as good as her word. You’ll collect your fee.’

Something about Dorian’s dismissive tone broke the last of Bull’s patience.

‘No. Fuck that, Dorian.’ Bull said, striding up to Dorian. Bull, from a young age, had taught himself not to loom. Not to take up too much space. Not to use his bulk to intimidate where it was not needed. Bull let all that carefully crafted spatial awareness fall away in a heartbeat. Bull loomed.

‘I get it. You decided you can't trust me anymore. Fine. I understand. If I had my own family chasing after me, I’d be a suspicious bastard too. But don’t pretend for one second that you believe that this is and has always been about the job for me.’

Bull had promised himself that morning he wasn’t going to push. He had broken that promise before lunchtime. Amazing self-control you’ve got there, Bull.

Dorian’s mask cracked.

‘And why shouldn’t I believe that?’ He hissed. ‘You’ve already admitted to my face that you’re the sort of man who would have sold me back to my father, if things were different!’

‘Of course I would have! I wouldn’t have known you if that had happened. You think I get chummy with the people I bounty-hunt? No! I deliberately don’t get to know them, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do my fucking job. But it’s too late with you, Dorian. I already know you.’

‘Don’t delude yourself.’ Dorian spat. ‘You know nothing about me, Qunari spy or no. You don’t have a fucking clue.’

‘I know that you’ve had the people who you should have been able to rely on the most turn on you. I know because of that you go around looking for reasons not to trust people. Even if they’re shitty hypothetical reasons. I know you're terrified of being seen as weak, or a burden. So you throw up this smokescreen and refuse to let anyone help you, just in case you leave yourself open for more damage. How are those clues, Dorian?’

For a mage, who did most of his fighting with magic, Dorian had a pretty good right hook.

Bull stepped back a pace. He looked down at Dorian. Dorian was shaking with rage.

‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’

‘No, we’re not.’ Dorian turned his back on Bull and headed towards the horses. ‘I refuse to play these mind-games any longer.’

Bull grabbed Dorian by the shoulder and spun him around.

‘There are no mind-games, Dorian. Not everything is a tactic, or a ploy, or a gambit. Sometimes things are exactly the way they seem.’

‘Then enlighten me, oh mighty Iron Bull, how do things “seem”?’ Dorian sneered. ‘Lift the curtain on the mysteries of the universe for poor blind Dorian.’

‘You know I care about you. And even though you don’t want to, you still care about me. And you’re not sure which one scares you more.’

Dorian stilled. His whole body was still thrumming with repressed energy. He ran his tongue along his teeth. Then he smirked up at Bull, all glorious defiance.

‘You still have no idea why I ran, do you, Bull? You have no concept of what my father tried to do to me.’

Bull stilled. He didn’t want to ask the question, but he’d pushed this far. May as well finish what he’d started.

‘Why did you--‘

Bull stopped mid question. There had been a sound. And it wasn’t a sound from the horses, or from Dorian, or from some little fuzzy animal in the undergrowth. Dorian had fallen silent too. He knew from Bull’s expression something was wrong.

A howl rang through the forest.

‘No.’ Dorian whispered. ‘No, they can’t have followed us this far.’

‘Back to the horses.’ Bull said. ‘Now.’

The two men raced back towards the road and their horses. They were about to break through the trees, when they heard a whistling sound. Bull stumbled back. An arrow was stuck in a tree just inches from his nose.

‘This way!’ Dorian yelled grabbing Bull’s arm and yanking it in the other direction. Bull turned back to look at the horses. Another arrow whizzed past. Dorian was right. They’d cut them off from their mounts. With a growl, Bull ran after Dorian, deeper into the forest. There wasn’t just the yowling of their attack dogs now. There was the wild, high pitched screaming of the slavers.

This was a hunt.

Dorian was right beside him, dodging branches, weaving between trees. Bull heard a snarl beside him and turned to see a huge dog leaping towards him, jaws snapping. The animal was engulfed in a ball of fire. Bull looked back to Dorian, whose hand was still smoking.

‘Where’s your staff?!’ Bull yelled.

‘I left it on the horse!’

‘Shit!’

‘Where’s your axe?!’

‘I left it on the horse!’

‘Kaffas!’

There was the gallop of horses behind them now. The slavers may have been on horseback, but it was also harder for them to navigate through the dense forest. One managed to draw up next to Bull on his right. The slaver lifted a spear over his shoulder, ready to throw.

‘Bull, look out!’ Dorian yelled.

Bull grabbed the spear as the slaver brought it down. He yanked it. The slaver jerked out of his saddle. There was a series of thuds as the man hit the ground and rolled. Bull and Dorian kept running.

‘Where are we going?’ Bull shouted at Dorian.

‘Away from the people who want to hurt us!’

‘Any other specifics?’

‘No.’

An arrow clipped Bull’s horn.

‘Okay. Right. Good plan.’

Up ahead, Bull could see the trees thinning. Bull didn’t like the idea of being out in the open, but they were out of options. As they broke through the trees, Dorian and Bull skidded to a stop.

It was a ravine.

A ravine with a long and dangerous drop to nothing. The other side was so close, so tantalisingly within reach. But it just that little bit too far for anyone to jump.

Dorian leant on his knees and panted.

‘I hate this area.’ He said between breaths. ‘I hate this whole Maker forsaken place with its damn cliffs, and its damn ravines, and all the blighted people on horseback who want to chase you through the damn forest.’

Bull’s eye was scanning the horizon. The galloping was getting louder. Then he spotted it. Bull grabbed Dorian’s shoulder and shook him.

‘Dorian, look!’

About a quarter-mile along from them was a rope bridge. Even from this distance it was clear the thing was old and weather-worn. There was a good chance it would snap under Bull’s weight.

But was there another choice?

The two men sprinted towards the bridge. From behind the trees, the whooping and shrieking was growing louder and louder. Dorian was flagging. He was pressing his hand into his side. Without asking, Bull turned, grabbed Dorian, and slung him over his shoulder.

‘Bull, no! I’ll slow you down.’

‘Dorian, shut up, just for once!’

They were almost at the bridge now. Bull had a plan. Dorian would go first. Bull would follow if he could. On the other side they would cut the ropes so the slavers couldn’t follow--

A volley of flaming arrows hit the bridge. Bull ran faster. His heart pounding. If he could get there before the bridge went up in flames, he could--

There was a snapping as the wood and the ropes caught alight. Bull watched in horror as their last escape route broke apart and tumbled into the ravine.

Bull skidded to a stop. He let Dorian roll of his shoulder. Dorian staggered for a few steps to find his balance. Then he saw the bridge.

‘Of course.’ He said. ‘Obviously. Can’t let things go right for Bull and Dorian just once, now can we?’

Bull’s eye flickered from the side of the ravine they were standing on to the side that promised safety. Something flashed inside it, as an idea awoke.

‘Dorian, I have a plan.’

‘Bull, don’t--’

‘You’re going to have to trust me. Can you do that?’

‘Bull--‘

‘Can you do that?’

‘Bull, it’s pointless! We can’t make that jump.’ Dorian said. His shoulders were slumped and his breathing was ragged. He sounded resigned.

Bull grit his teeth.

‘No.’ Bull said. ‘But I can make that throw.’

‘Wha--?‘

Bull cut off Dorian’s words, pressing his mouth against his. It was brief, lasting no more than a second. But it was warm, and firm, and probably the last chance Bull would ever have to kiss Dorian.

Bull broke the kiss. Before Dorian had time to work out what was happening, Bull grabbed a hold of the collar of Dorian’s shirt and the seat of his pants. It was not dignified, and Dorian would hate him for this, but they were out of options. Bull lifted Dorian off the ground, spun in a circle, and flung Dorian with all his strength. Dorian flew over the gap to the other side. He landed on the hard ground and rolled a few feet before coming to a stop.

Dorian lay motionless.

The slavers burst through the tree line. They would be on Bull in seconds. He didn’t turn around to face them. He was too busy looking at Dorian’s limp body on the other side.

‘Get up,’Vint.’ He murmured. ‘Get up.’

Bull saw Dorian move. An arrow landed next to him and Dorian scurried away from it on his hands and knees. Dorian’s eyes turned in Bull's direction. Even from this distance, Bull could see the fear in them.

‘ _Bull!_ ’

It was the last thing Bull heard Dorian say before the slavers swarmed him and dragged him down. He didn’t struggle this time, as he had when they'd first caught him. Bull lay still as the slavers looped their ropes around his body and latched chains to his horns. He could hear Dorian yelling in the distance, but Bull knew that Dorian was safe. The slavers couldn’t make that jump either.

The slavers pulled Bull to his knees. Someone grabbed him by the horns and yanked them back, pulling his face upwards. Staring down at him was a face he had never wanted to see again.

‘Hello, my runaway Qunari.’ Said Septima. Her mace's hilt collided with Bull’s temple and the world disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you knew she'd be back.


	27. Dathras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever written something and felt like you needed to shower afterwards?

Everything was black.

Then grey.

Then blurry.

Then clear.

Everything hurt.

That didn’t change.

‘Look who’s awake.’ Said a voice above him. ‘Get him up.’

A kick to the ribs. Iron Bull grunted. Hands grabbed at him and hauled him onto his knees. There was a clinking of chains around his hands and feet. His whole body felt wrong. His mouth tasted metallic, but beyond that was something else. Something earthy and bitter.

Deathroot and blood lotus.

He blinked a couple of times, trying to keep himself from swaying. The slavers hadn’t given him enough to fully knock him down. They'd probably undercompensated for Bull’s size and for Qunari metabolism. But it was enough to make sitting upright a feat.

‘Leave us.’ Said the voice.

‘Septima--‘ another person said, with a warning tone.

‘Varius?’

There was silence. The kind of silence that you get before a lighting strike.

Bull heard the sound of footsteps. They faded away quickly.

Something was wrong with his vision. Why couldn’t he see properly? His eye was open and he could see directly in front of him—trees, caravans, slave wagons, a fire. But everything to the sides was blanked out. Bull shook his head. There was something on his face, strapped to his head. He tried to swallow and felt something wedged in his mouth, between his back teeth. He rolled his tongue against it. It was a hard metal bit.

Oh. They’d strapped a fucking bridle on him. Great.

Someone tugged Bull’s head to the side, by the horn. Bull growled around the bit. Septima circled into the narrow gap of vision he had through the blinders.

‘You like it? I’d get used to it if I was you, Qunari. You’re going to be wearing it for a while.’

She ran her hand tenderly along the strap of leather that crossed Bull’s cheek. Bull’s eye narrowed.

‘Varius still wants me to kill you, you know.’ Septima tutted and shook her head. ‘That man has no vision. I know he’s going to make me kill him one of these days. It’s a pity. But I don’t think it can be helped.’

Bull glared back at her, his huge chest rising and falling. Even if he could talk, he wouldn’t have given her the satisfaction.

‘I, on the other hand, have decided to be merciful.’

Septima smiled and squatted down lower to be eye-level with Bull. She didn’t have to squat far. ‘If fact, you lucky thing, I’ve decided I’m going to keep you. Do you have any idea what an impression you’ll make in Minrathous, out front, pulling one of my wagons? You’ll be a walking advertisement.’

Septima let go of Bull’s horn with a shove and turned her back to him. She began to rummage through one of her packs.

‘There will have to be some changes of course.’ Septima said over her shoulder. ‘The horns will have to go. And your tongue. We’ll keep your balls just in case one day someone wants to buy you for breeding stock. But I don’t think they will. I plan on having you drag my wagon, until your legs buckle from under you.’

Septima found whatever she was looking for in her pack and pulled it out. She strolled back to Bull and cupped his jaw. She ran a sharp thumb-nail under his eye socket.

‘I’m tossing up on whether we really need to let you keep that eye.’ She tilted her head and hummed. ‘Sure, it could be useful. But if we’re steering by the reins anyway, there’s no real reason to have you see.’

Septima’s hand fell away. Bull could still feel the warmth of where her hand had touched. After days in the wilderness, that touch was the thing that made him feel dirty.

‘But what you get to keep is up to you, in a way.’ Septima said. Bull could now see that she had a roll of paper in her hand. She kept talking as she unrolled it. ‘A Qunari such as yourself may be a grand statement for my crew. But it’s nothing against the promise of cold, hard coin.’

Septima turned the page over. Bull’s stomach fell. If he weren’t drugged, he may have been able to keep his face neutral. He couldn’t. Septima smiled.

‘Oh you have seen this.’ She said. ‘And here I thought I was going to surprise you.’

The page she held out inches from Bull’s face was Dorian’s wanted poster. She turned it back her way to look at it.

‘You know what I love most about this poster?’ Septima asked. 'The words “Substantial Reward”. Doesn’t that just give you a bit of a thrill, way down low in the places the Chantry sisters don’t want you to touch? The picture's not bad either. Such a fine-looking young man.’ She said, with a dreamy, school-girl sigh. ‘I was planning to sample him a little before we sold him. Just to see if he had any talent in that area. It would shock you how much rich men and women are willing to pay for a pretty boy who knows how to use his mouth.’

Septima leant forward. ‘I’ll bet you’ve experienced that first hand, haven’t you?’

Bull growled and lunged at Septima, but the chains held him in place. The slaver laughed and clapped her hands.

‘I knew it! I knew it, from the moment I saw you sling his pretty arse over your shoulder, when you first escaped. And your little bid to protect him today, at you own expense? That just cemented it. Oh I can just picture a savage ox-man like you holding him down and rutting into him like the animal you are.’

Bull roared and strained against the chains holding him down. Every one of his muscles felt like they were going to snap. He didn’t care. He was going to rip this bitch’s head off. Septima grabbed his horns and wrenched his head back.

‘Here’s your choice.’ She said. ‘You tell me where the pretty little mage is heading, and I’ll let you go. Completely free and without consequence. Hell, I’ll even throw in your horse to sweeten the deal.’ Septima smiled a smile that showed her canines. ‘Or you could go on protecting him, after saving his behind again and again and again. And how will your loyalty be repaid? You'll spend the rest of your days as my personal draught Qunari. And I promise you, ox, if that happens, you won't have many days. What do you say?’

Bull sat still, the only movement his breathing. Septima yanked on his horns again.

‘Nod for yes. Shake for no. Is that simple enough for you, ox-man?’

Bull didn't move.

'Are you under the delusion that the mage would do the same for you?' Septima asked. 'That he cares about you in any way? Believe me, ox. That mage saw you as a meat-shield. Nothing else. He's not coming back for you. Why should you lose your freedom for him?'

Bull stared long into Septima’s eyes. Then his gaze fell.

He nodded.

‘Smart choice, ox-man.’ Septima said. She let go of Bull’s horns and released the clasp at the back of his head. The bit fell away but the blinders remained.

‘So where’s he going.’ Septima leant in and whispered. She ran her fingernails across Iron Bull’s scalp. ‘Where would that pretty mage run to, hmm?’

Bull murmured something. His voice was quiet and hoarse. Septima leaned closer.

‘Speak up. You’re going to have to use words here, ox-man.’

The Iron Bull snapped his neck back and then head-butted Septima with all his might. The woman shrieked and staggered back, clutching her nose. Blood was already dripping down beneath her palm and onto her leather chest-plate.

‘I said “Fuck you, lady.”’ Bull snarled.

The slavers ran back as soon as they heard Septima’s scream. Fists and feet and elbows all rained down on Bull in an instant. Bull was forced to the ground, on his back. The bit was shoved back into his mouth. A boot slammed down onto his neck and pressed, blocking off his air. Septima glared down at Bull, blood trickling down her face and dripping off her chin.

‘I’ve made a decision.’ She spat. ‘You don’t get to keep the eye.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Need a shower.


	28. Tandem

Dorian ran blindly though the trees. His breath was jagged and heavy.

_They took Bull! That stupid fucking idiot! He just had to go and save my worthless hide, didn’t he?! He just had to play the selfless hero and let them take him!_

_Kaffas, Septima’s going to kill him._

Dorian's mind was scrambling as fast as his body. He knew he needed to think of a plan. But he was in such a state of panic the only thought that revolved through Dorian’s mind was _I have to save Bull_ , over and over. His brain refused to supply any way of actually doing that.

Evening had fallen at some point, but Dorian hadn’t registered when. He was too busy running. He didn’t have a clue where he was running to, but he knew he had to keep running.

A branch snapped against Dorian’s injured side and he cried out in pain, skidding to a stop. He looked down to check his side. It was bleeding again. Dorian gritted his teeth. What inexpressible joy! Because his life wasn’t needlessly complicated already.

From behind him, Dorian heard voices.

He stiffened. Had the slavers found a way across the ravine? A way that didn’t involve a Qunari picking them up and hurling them arse-over-head? He forced himself to breathe slowly and quietly. He strained his ears to hear.

‘We’re lost, aren’t we?’ Said one of the voices.

‘No, we’re not!’ Said another. ‘He said that the place is secluded.’

‘So secluded that you have no idea where it is.’

‘Just shut it for a moment, will you? I’m trying to think.’

‘Don’t try too hard. You’ll break something.’

Dorian moved closer to the sound. He hadn’t even realised that here was a road nearby. Too busy dashing through the forest to actually take notice of the things that could be of use to him. Fool that he was. Dorian crept forward, managing to get a glimpse of the speakers through the trees.

It wasn’t the slavers. Dorian could at least count his blessings for that. It was two men on horseback. Dorian had never seen either before. One was a young, clean-shaven man in a suit of armour. The other was older and darker. His accent wasn’t Tevene.

‘We should meet back up with the others.’ Said the younger of the two. It seemed strange to Dorian that he was the one in charge, when the older man clearly had more experience. ‘We’re going to need to make camp soon.’

‘You promised them a roof over their heads tonight. There’s going to be a bunch of pissing and moaning.’

‘When isn’t there?’ The first said. An idea flashed in Dorian’s mind. He quickly dismissed it as stupid, but then again, it was the only idea he’d had since Bull had been recaptured.

A stupid idea was better than no idea at all.

Dorian straightened himself, holding his head high. Then he stepped out of the undergrowth and onto the road, in front of the two horsemen.

‘Gentlemen,’ he said and flashed them a dazzling smile. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to relieve you of one of your mounts.’

The two men stopped in their tracks. They looked at each other, then back to Dorian. Dorian noticed that the younger was carrying a war-hammer. He regretted his plan immediately.

‘You’re going to do what, now?’ Asked the younger man. Dorian swallowed.

‘Your horse. I’m terribly sorry. Under any other circumstances I wouldn’t be doing this. But I’m afraid this is a matter of life and death.’

‘You’re going to steal a horse from us?’

‘Regrettably, yes. Do hop off, there’s a good man.’

The younger man leant forward. ‘You do realise there’s two of us and only one of you?’

Dorian let his hands flare up. He smelt the odour of singeing fabric.

‘I find magic evens those sorts of odds.’

‘I hate this country. Bloody mages think they own everything.’ The younger man said under his breath. The older one tilted his head and pointed at Dorian’s side.

‘Are you bleeding?’

Dorian looked down and saw that blood was indeed seeping through his robes again. The knock from the branch must have reopened something. Dorian grunted, angry that the men he was trying rob had spotted this weakness.

‘That’s none of your concern.’ Dorian said. Even to himself he sounded ridiculous. The older man tsked.

‘You know, left untreated, open wounds can get pretty nasty.’

‘What are you, a healer?’ Dorian snarled.

‘Yes.’

‘Oh.’ Dorian paused, unsure where to go. ‘Well, congratulations on that I suppose. I’m sure your parents are proud. One of you. Off your horse. Now.’

The younger man gave his travelling companion a side-on look. Then, slowly, he slipped off the back of his horse.

‘You’re not serious.’ The healer said to his friend. The younger man held up his hand.

‘Let me deal with this, alright?’ He said. He took his horse's reins in one hand and walked towards Dorian. ‘I’m the one in charge, remember.’

The older man held up his hands and shook his head, admitting some form of defeat. The younger man stood in front of Dorian and held out the horse’s reins.

‘Her name is Peppermint. Don’t blame me, I didn’t pick it. She’s antsy around new people, but if she knows you know what you’re doing, she’ll follow you into the void.’ The man raised an eyebrow. ‘You do know how to handle a horse, right?’

‘Why does everyone keep assuming that I don’t?’ Dorian mumbled to himself. He let the fire die from his right hand and reached out for the reins. He hesitated for a moment.

‘I know this will mean little, but I am sorry about this.’ Dorian said. ‘I’ll try to bring her back if things go well, but I’d be lying if I said I thought I was going to come out of this unscathed.’

The healer, still on horseback, scowled. ‘What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?’

‘It’s none of your concern.’ Dorian said again. He looked at the younger man and held out his palm. ‘Your horse, please.’

The man paused for a moment before withdrawing the reins.

‘Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I’m keeping the horse.’

‘What?’

The young man nodded over his shoulder.

‘Yeah, I was just stalling so she could get behind you.’

Dorian spun around and felt a fist collide with his jaw. He staggered back a step, falling to one knee. A foot collided with his shoulder, knocking him backwards and pinning him to the ground. He looked up to see a dark-haired elf standing over him. She held a very large knife.

‘Stay down, Shem.’ She snarled. ‘Unless you want me to cut up your pretty face.’

‘Where are the others?’ The younger man said to the elf. He talked as though she wasn’t standing on Dorian’s shoulder, menacing him with a dagger. The elf pointed that dagger further down the road.

‘Not too far behind. They sent me ahead to see if you’ve admitted we’re lost yet.’

‘We’re not lost.’ The younger man groaned. Even from the ground, Dorian could see the healer nodding from on top of his horse. He mouthed to the elf the words “Yes, we are.”

‘I just can’t find the stupid pigeon the Chief sent to us.’ The young man said

Dorian lifted his head, his eyes wide. Pigeon?

‘We’ll you’re going to have to pick up its trail soon, Krem.’ Said the healer. ‘If we can’t track it down, we have no way of--‘

‘Krem?’ Dorian spluttered. ‘You’re Krem? Cremisius Aclassi?’

All three of the travellers stopped dead. The younger man moved forward and knelt near Dorian’s face. He held out his hand and the elf passed him the knife. He bounced it in his palm, testing its weight, and then leaned in closer to Dorian.

‘How do you know my name, mage?’ He said with a deadly quiet. Dorian found his mouth suddenly dry.

‘Bull.’ Dorian said. ‘I was travelling with the Iron Bull. We escaped the slavers, but they caught up with us again, and now they have him, and I’m not sure if they’ve killed him--‘

‘Slow down.’ Krem said, the knife tossed onto the ground beside him. He slapped at the elf’s leg and she stepped off Dorian's shoulder. ‘You know the chief? You’re the mage that escaped with him?’

Dorian nodded.

‘He could be lying.’ Said the elf. ‘We’ve got no proof he’s the same mage Bull wrote about.’

Dorian let his head drop to the dirt and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath.

‘I'm assuming from your friendly demeanour and bountiful love of humans that you're Skinner. You have another elf as part of your company called Dalish, and she is definitely “not a mage”. That’s in spite of all the magic she conjures from her “bow”. Bull lost his eye the first time he met Krem, protecting him in a bar-fight. The man on the horse is probably Stitches. Not only because he’s already admitted to being a healer, but he’s actually spoken in full sentences. Which automatically precludes Grim. That just leaves Rocky, who was kicked out of Orzammar for blowing… up… _something_ very dwarfish and important, I’m sure. I can’t remember the details--‘

‘Alright, alright.’ Dorian felt Krem grab him under the arm and sit him upright. ‘The Chief really talked about us that much, eh?’

‘He never shut up about you. No offence intended.’

Krem pulled Dorian’s arm over his own shoulders and lifted them both to their feet. Stitches leapt off his horse and came over to look at Dorian’s side. As he peeled away the bandages, Stitches winced.

‘Yeah. Just as I thought. You pulled your stitches. We better find the others and make camp.’

Dorian pulled his arm off Krem’s shoulders and stumbled backward.

‘No. You don’t understand. There’s no time for that nonsense. We have to go save Bull now. The stupid oaf flung me across a bloody ravine, like he was taking part in some human hammer-throw. Just so I could get away. We can’t leave him to them. Their leader is insane.’

Stitches stepped towards Dorian, while Krem muttered something about how the chief had to stop throwing people. Skinner knelt down and picked up her knife.

‘We will.’ Stitches promised. ‘We're going to look for the Chief as soon as we can. But you’re not going to do him any good if you bleed yourself dry. So we’ll patch you up, we’ll come up with a plan, and then we’ll find Bull.’

‘A plan that doesn’t involve charging into a slave camp, by yourself, on a stolen horse.’ Krem added. Dorian scowled.

‘Bull mentioned something about you giving “too much lip”.’

Krem stuck out his chin and grinned.

There was a stirring in the undergrowth. All four of them turned towards it. Skinner flipped her knife over her hand. Stitches drew his sword. Krem reached for his war hammer and Dorian re-lit his hands.

A human, a dwarf, and an elf broke through the tree line and onto the road.

‘Hey, Krem, we found the bird!’ Said the dwarf. ‘Who’s… the guy with the great moustache?’

The pigeon sitting on the man’s shoulder squawked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HORNS UP!


	29. Kith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talky chapter is talky.

‘So we had to leg it out of Castra Martis in the middle of a storm.' Krem said. 'We spent the night huddled together in a cave.’

Dorian and the chargers were sitting around a camp fire. They were eating what could be called—if one was feeling generous—gruel. Krem was telling Dorian what had befallen the Chargers, after they lost their fearless leader.

‘We didn’t hear back from the Chief for days. We were about to decide if we should stay put or keep moving when we got his message to follow the pigeon to some sort of safe-house. We tried to, but the stupid bird was difficult to keep an eye on.’

‘That’s the excuse you’re going with, eh?’ Rocky said before taking a swig from a waterskin.

‘Shut it, Rocky. Anyway, we were going to pack it in and call it a night. But that's when some bloody idiot thought it’d be smart to try and steal my horse.’

‘You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?’ Dorian sighed. ‘Listen, I knew it wasn’t the best of plans--‘

‘Calling it a plan would be too generous.’ Stitches said. He was kneeling beside Dorian, running a needle and thread through his torn flesh. ‘An elaborate suicide attempt, maybe.’

‘--but I didn’t have any other choices. I couldn’t say “Excuse me, I need your help rescuing a Qunari from some slavers” and expect the average Tevinter citizen to enthusiastically lend me a hand. We are currently at war with them, remember?’

Krem waved his hand dismissively. ‘We’re at war with everyone.’

‘Yes, but the Qunari are our longest and dearest foes.’ Dorian said. ‘They’ll always have a special place in our hearts.’ Dorian let out a sharp hiss. Stitches may have been good at stitching, but his skill didn’t make the process any less unpleasant.

‘Stay still.’ Stitches said. ‘We’re almost done. Can’t say you won’t have an ugly scar there at the end of the day. But if you keep it clean and don’t do anything else stupid, this will hold.’

He tied off the ends of the thread and bit off the extra length with his teeth.

‘There you go. All done. Pass me the bandages, Grim.’

Grim grunted and did so.

‘So what about you?’ Asked Dalish, pointing a spoon at Dorian.

‘Me?’

‘Yes. What happened with you and Bull?’

_Bull protected me. He cared for me. He saved me multiple times from certain death, gave me some of the most mind-blowing sex I have ever experienced, and I repaid him with distrust and callousness._

‘Oh, you know. I’m sure our scrapes and misadventures would sound positively dull to a band of mercenaries like yourselves.’ Dorian said with a fixed smile. ‘I’m sure Bull is the better story-teller of the two of us. I’ll allow him to tell it, once we’ve rescued him.’

Stitches finished wrapping the bandage around Dorian’s torso. He tucked the loose end into the folds.

‘Speaking of.’ Dorian said standing. He grimaced. ‘We’d better get going.’

All the Chargers stopped and stared at him. It was unnerving to see so many vastly different faces sharing the same blank expression.

‘Go where?’ asked Skinner.

‘To save Bull, of course. What else would I mean.’

‘It’s the middle of the night.’

‘All the better to sneak up on the slavers' camp, surely?’ Dorian frowned. ‘What’s the matter? I thought you’d all be leaping to your feet, ready to crush the enemy for your beloved Captain.’

‘Dorian, we have no idea where the Chief is.’ Krem said, leaning forward on his elbows. ‘We have no idea how many slavers there are or what weapons they have. We need to work out a plan.’

‘We can do that while we search for him.’ Dorian said. He was trying to stop his voice from rising.

‘We’ve been moving non-stop since we got separated. We haven’t even been able to restock our supplies.’ Rocky said. He lifted up his bowl of gruel as evidence. ‘If we don’t get a decent night’s sleep, at least, we’re going to fall on our faces.’

Dorian clenched his teeth. ‘So that’s it then. You’re all going to go off and have a nap, while Bull’s in the hands of his sadistic captors.’

‘Oi.’ Krem stood. ‘Don’t pull that shit with us. We’ve been breaking out backs, trying to catch up with you and Bull.'

‘Their leader could be breaking Bull’s back literally, as we speak!’ Dorian yelled. ‘Does that mean nothing to you?!'

Stitches tried to pull Dorian back onto the log they were sitting on. ‘Dorian, take it easy. No one here is saying we’re not going to rescue Bull--‘

‘No, you’re just going to do it in your own time and at your own leisurely pace.’ Dorian sneered. He shook Stitches' hand off and strode away from the chargers and the fire.

‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ Krem shouted after him

‘Where do you think?’

Dorian stormed off behind the tents to pack some things. He heard the Chargers murmuring behind him.

‘Krem, go talk to him.’

‘What? Why me?’

‘Because you’re a ‘Vint, stupid.’

‘You’re a mage, Dalish, you go talk to him.’

‘For the last time, I’m not a mage! ‘

‘Okay, fine. You know what? I _will_ go talk to him. Any excuse not have this argument for the nine-hundredth time.’

‘We wouldn’t have it all the time if you just _stopped calling me a mage_.’

Dorian didn’t turn around when he heard Krem walk up behind him.

‘So, what’s your plan?’ Asked Krem. His patronising tone set Dorian’s teeth on edge.

‘The plan is the rescue Bull.’ He said finding a water-skin. He attached it to his belt. ‘And it seems like the plan is to rescue him alone.’

‘And how are you going to find him?’

‘By looking.’

‘Where? North? South? East? West? Or are just going to keep going until you trip over him?’

‘Worked with you and the rest of your useless crew.’ Dorian muttered. Rocky was right, the Chargers were low on supplies. The water would be enough. He stood, only for Krem to spin him around and poke him in the chest.

‘You think I don’t want the Chief back?’ Krem spat. ‘Of course I do. We all do! But I also know he’d have my arse on a platter if we just rushed in with our cocks hanging out and got ourselves killed. With him gone, I’m the one in charge. And that means keeping everyone safe. Everyone's lives are my responsibility. Even yours.’

Krem spoke those last two words with a dry reluctance. It was dark, this far from the fire. But Dorian could see the pinched lines around Krem’s mouth and the purple bruising under his eyes. When Dorian thought back to all the Chargers' faces, they shared a similar haggardness.

Dorian ran his hand over his eyes and sighed. ‘I know. I know. You’re right. You’re absolutely right. It’s just… We had a falling out before the slavers showed up, and I said some things. Some terrible, unforgivable things. And if we don’t get him back, those will be the last things I said to him.’

Krem rolled his eyes and sighed. He looked over his shoulder at the camp to make sure no one was watching. Then, stiffly, he wrapped his arm around Dorian’s back and patted Dorian on the shoulder.

‘The Chief’s not going to hold one argument against you, you know. Just because the last talk you had was a fight, doesn’t take away from all the other talks.’

‘What if I accused him of being a manipulative deceiver who would willingly betray me in order to fulfil a contract?’

Krem pulled his hand away. ‘Alright, that’s a little harsher than I thought.’

Dorian gave a single sharp ‘Ha!’ and shook his head. ‘Krem, you’ve known me for a few hours and already you know what a rude, callous, vindictive man I can be. It shouldn’t surprise you that even Iron Bull has felt the brunt of my vitriol.’

‘Hey, don’t speak for me. I wouldn’t call you any of those things.’ Krem crossed his arms.

Dorian raised his eyebrow ‘No?’

‘Okay, maybe if I was looking for a fight. But right now I’d say you’re a hot-head who doesn’t think before he acts and lets his emotions get the best of him. But we all know you’re on our side. You want to save the Chief. You've just got to remember we’re on yours too.’

Dorian nodded and sniffed. ‘Yes. Yes, I understand.’ Dorian ran his hand over his mouth and stood straighter. ‘I suppose I should go and make my apologies to the company.’

Dorian took a step back towards the fire. Krem stopped him in his tracks with a hand to the chest.

‘Not so fast.’ Krem said. ‘What was that thing you said about contracts?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ Dorian waved his hand. ‘Just a testament to my own folly and paranoia.’

Krem didn’t move his hand. He looked at Dorian from under his eyebrows. Dorian huffed.

‘Did Bull tell you why he was taking the company into Tevinter?’

‘Yeah, he showed me the letter. Some magister wanted us to try and find a missing friend of hers because his daddy may have-- oh fucking shitting tit bags!’ Krem raised his hand from Dorian’s chest and to his own face. ‘You’re the missing magister’s son.’

‘Much to my chagrin.’

‘And Bull didn’t tell you about the job?’

‘No. And what’s worse, through a series of mishaps that would make and Antivian melodrama look tame, I thought he was working for my father.’

‘And that's what you were arguing about when the slavers came?’

‘Not exactly. We had cleared up that misunderstanding by then.’

‘What did he do to piss you off more?’

‘It doesn’t matter…’

Krem continued to stare at him without a word. Dorian realised Krem the mercenary lieutenant and his own mother shared a common skill. They both had the ability to glare at people until they broke down and told them what they wanted to know.

‘I asked him whether he would have taken me back to my father, if my father had employed him. Bull admitted he would have.’

Dorian could see Krem’s jaw clench. Dorian braced himself for the barrage of insults that Krem was bound to throw his way.

‘That big-horned idiot.’

Dorian cocked his head to the side. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Krem sighed. ‘Look, I apologise for the Chief. You had a right to be pissed off, but I swear he’s not like that at all.’

‘Wait, hold on. You’re on my side?’

Krem pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Bull told you about how we met, right?

‘Yes?’

‘Did he tell you why the Tribune and his men had a problem with me?’

‘Because Tribunes and their men are all-around delightful individuals?’ Dorian said. His side still ached.

‘I’m a deserter.’ Krem said. Dorian paused.

‘Oh.’

Krem nodded.

‘Yeah. So I get why you wouldn’t be keen on getting dragged off again. Believe me.’

Dorian nodded, not sure how to feel about having someone validate his feelings. Krem shifted his weight from foot to foot.

‘What I don’t get is why he said he would still work for your dad if he found out he was an arsehole.’ Krem said. ‘We’ve broken off contracts for worse reasons.’

‘It had little to do with the contact. It was more to do with the Qun wanting a foothold in Tevinter.’ Dorian said rubbing his hands together. The night was getting cold.

Krem groaned.‘That tit and the Qun.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean.’

Krem lifted up his hands like he was surrendering or praying.

‘Look Dorian, don’t ask me why, but the Chief has this weird thing about needing to think he’s a good Qunari boy. It goes back to Seheron and his stint in a re-education facility.’

Dorian’s stomach dropped.

‘The Qunari forced Bull into re-education?’

‘No, he chose to go.' Krem leant forward. 'His lot think that without the Qun, they go off the deep end. Become mindless killers or some shit. Bull believes it too. So much so that when he started to doubt what the Qun said, he turned himself over to get his head fixed. It’s no secret. He wears it as a badge of pride.’

Dorian took a step backward. He turned, stepped a few paces away and then turned around again.

‘And he has no idea how horrific that is? To have someone enter his mind and-- and…’ Dorian scrambled for the right words, ‘violate it for their own purposes?’

‘Nope. But the thing is, for as long as I’ve known the Chief, he’s never really been a proper Qunari. None of the Chargers follow the Qun. He’s never tried to convert anyone. His right-hand man’s a ‘Vint,’ Krem gestured to himself, ‘and can you imagine any Qunari being fine with Dalish hanging around?’

‘So what are you saying?’ Dorian asked. ‘That Bull needs the illusion of the Qun more than he needs the real thing?’

Krem shrugged. ‘That’s one way of looking at it.’

‘But you don’t know that for sure.’ Dorian stepped closer to Krem. ‘For all you know, one day his supervisors in Par Vollen will come to him and tell him to kill all of you, and he would do it. Without a moment’s hesitation.’

‘He could. But he won’t.’

Dorian felt jealously spring up inside him at Krem’s complete confidence in Iron Bull.

‘How can you be certain?’

‘Because people are their actions. Not their words.’

Dorian looked Krem up and down. He pursed his lips.

‘You’re playing a dangerous game, Krem. If you’re wrong, it could cost you your life.’

Krem shrugged again.

‘I would already be dead if it weren’t for the Chief. May as well give the bastard the benefit of the doubt.’

‘Have you two kissed and made up yet?!’ Yelled Skinner from the camp fire. ‘Or did you both get eaten by a bear?’

Krem clapped Dorian on the shoulder.

‘Come on. We’ll get some sleep and go do our heroic rescuing tomorrow.’

Dorian let out a long breath. Then he nodded.

‘Can I tell the rest of the boys you’re the magister we were hired to look for?’ Krem asked and they strolled slowly back towards the fire. ‘We were all betting on what you would be like when we actually found you. None of us put coin on “moustached horse-thief”.’

‘I’m not a magister, Krem. I’m just an Altus. You of all people should know better.’

‘Sorry. My mistake. Just an Altus. Whose mother probably gave birth to him on a pile of diamonds while trained songbirds sweetly sang your house’s full lineage.’

‘Oh yes, Krem. You’ve hit the nail on the head. A brilliant, cutting, satirical look at real life for Tevinter’s upper echelons.’

‘What? You’re not loaded?’ Krem pouted. ‘Shit. We were planning on turning you in for a huge reward.’

Dorian stopped abruptly. They were just outside the camp fire circle. All the Chargers turned and looked at Dorian.

‘Gentlemen.’ Dorian said. ‘I think I may have come up with our elusive plan.’


	30. Pater

Septima pulled out a long, curved knife. I was the one she’d used on Varius’ face the day they'd captured Bull. She tested its weight and then turned it in her grip.

‘Varius.’ Septima looked at her second. She had a serene smile under all that blood. ‘Hold his head steady.’

Bull felt hands wrap around his horns and yank his head back. He tried to thrash and pull his head away. But Septima’s foot was still on his windpipe and he was running out of air. She knelt, putting all her weight on Bull’s neck. Spots littered his vision, but he could still see that knife lining up with his eye. Maybe when she stabbed him he could lean into it, or twist his head. Make the knife plunge straight through his socket and into his brain. He didn’t want to die, but if it was a choice between that and being Septima’s mule--

‘What are you doing?’

Septima stopped, hung her head with a growl, and then rolled it towards the speaker.

‘This is none of your business.’

‘Is that the Qunari who escaped with the mage?’

‘Yeah. So?’

‘Then it is my business. Sit him up.’

Septima leapt up and stormed out of Bull’s field of vision. Bull gasped for air. He could hear Septima seething.

‘Listen, you glorified house-slave. You may think that your ties to your master will keep you safe. You’re wrong. They mean nothing here. If you ever give me an order again, I will slit you down the centre and let your guts fall on the grass.’

The other voice was calm. ‘Duly noted. But remember this: if I breathe one word of complaint to my master, you lose all the gold for the mage. My master takes my word very seriously, Septima. Don’t disappoint him.’

There was a stretch of silence. Bull looked up at Varius. The man was still holding his horns, but his concentration was fixed on Septima and her conversation. Bull heard the grate of metal that signified the knife being slipped back into its scabbard.

‘Sit the ox-man up.’ Septima said. ‘Our guest would like a word with him.’

The hands returned to grab at Bull. His head throbbed as he was pulled up to his knees again. Varius’ hands were still on his horns. He wrenched them out of the slaver’s grip. Varius didn’t grab hold of them again.

‘I would like that word to be in private.’ The unknown voice spoke again. He didn’t get a response straight away.

‘I wouldn’t get too close.’ Was all Septima replied, before she stalked away. Bull heard the other slavers retreat after her.

The man who owned the voice finally wandered into Bull’s line of sight. Bull didn’t know what he'd expected, but he hadn’t expected this.

The man was, at a guess, in his fifties, but he retained most of the good looks he'd had as a younger man. His thick hair was dark, except for some greying at the temples. He had a strong jaw and a good profile. But age was creeping up on him. Deep lines etched his forehead and the corners of his eyes. Bull could see the beginnings of jowls around his cheeks and chin. But it was his voice that gave him away. He had the voice of a much older man. He was wearing travelling robes, but he obviously didn’t do much travelling. These clothes were too fine for the open road and made of materials that weren’t going to last. He held a long, elegant staff in one hand. It was made of a dark wood and polished so well, Bull could see the light shift across its surface.

The man scrutinised Bull.

‘So you’re the Qunari that ran off with Dorian.’

Bull didn’t move. He just stared up at the stranger, his tongue pressing against the bit. The man pressed a finger to his lips.

‘If I remove that device, will I get the same reward as our lovely hostess?’

Bull still didn’t move.

‘I shall take my chances.’

The man stepped closer to Bull, then hesitated. When Bull didn’t lunge at him, the man reached up and unbuckled the upper strap of bridle. The blighted thing fell out of Bull’s mouth and hung around his neck. The man stepped back.

‘Do you have a name, Qunari?’ the man asked.

Bull raised an eyebrow. ‘If you knew anything about Qunari, you would know how stupid that question is.’

The man laughed, but it was nervous. ‘Of course. Qunari don’t have names. I forget myself. In that case, how should I address you?’

‘Do I look like I want to have a heart-to-heart, right now?’ Bull asked. ‘Just say what you want to say, I’ll tell you to piss off, and we can get this over and done with.’

The man frowned ‘Is this how you normally address people?’

‘Chained, bridled, and on my knees?’ Bull said. ‘No. Well, once or twice but it’s usually a lot more fun than this.’

The man paused, weighing up his next move. He knelt in the grass and inched closer to Bull.

‘Allow me to introduce myself then, if you’re so unwilling. I am Murugan. I act as a retainer for House Pavus. Septima alerted my master about a slave that had escaped her custody, after seeing a wanted poster with his likeness. He sent me to investigate her claims, that the man was his son Dorian Pavus. I am told you have been travelling with him for the last week.’

Bull hummed, low and quiet. Then his shoulders started to shake. He couldn’t keep his laugh from bursting out of him. The man kneeling before him leant back.

‘Have you gone mad, Qunari?’ Bull continued to laugh and shook his head.

‘You know, your son used almost the exact same cover story.’

Halward Pavus tensed. He shuffled closer to Bull and whispered harshly.

‘How did you know?’

‘I still have one eye, Pavus. You two look so much alike. Anyone with half a brain could figure it out.’

‘None of these low-life slavers did.’

‘And there’s my point.’

Halward ran his hand through his hair. Bull could see the tendons in his neck were taut.

‘Where is my son?’ He hissed.

‘Safe.’

‘Safe where?’

‘If I told you that, he wouldn’t be safe anymore.’

Halward narrowed his eyes.

‘Qunari, I have no idea what my son has been telling you, but you have to believe me. I only want what’s best for him. And the best thing for him is to come home.’

‘You’re wrong.’

Halward gaped.

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘You heard.’ Bull sneered. ‘You may think you know what’s best for him, but you’re wrong. I’ve seen what Dorian is willing to do to never see you again. You’re poisonous.’

‘Mind your tongue, Qunari. You know nothing.’

‘I’ve heard him say the words “I’d rather die than go back”. From his own mouth. Considering he had a knife to his throat at the time, I believe him far more than I believe you.’

Halward’s eyes widened. He licked his lips and ran his hand over his mouth.

‘It… it’s worse than I expected. I knew there was a risk that the ritual would unbalance his faculties, but I never expected…’

‘What ritual?’ Bull interrupted. Halward's eyes snapped back to Bull.

‘Never you mind.’ He spat. ‘Dorian is my son, and he needs protection, from himself as well as others. I demand you tell me where he is this instant.’

In an instant, the pieces he hadn’t been able to put together that morning clicked into place. Bull was finally able to recall the words Dorian had said back on that cliff-top.

_‘My father hired you to hit me over the head and drag me back to him. I'm sure this time his little blood-magic ritual will go perfectly. You think this much blood would be enough for him?’_

‘You tried to use blood-magic on your own son.’ Bull said. It was more to himself than to Halward. The magister growled and stood, shaking his staff at Bull.

‘Don’t you dare judge me, you beast. I was doing what needed to be done. To protect my family and my legacy. His flaunting of his perverted desires could no longer stand.’

‘What perverted desires? That he likes men?’ Bull asked. Was that what this whole thing was about? Halward was willing to warp his son’s mind, or hunt him across the country, because Dorian liked cock? That was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. Bull would have laughed if it wasn’t terrifying. Halward glared down at him.

‘Don’t speak of things you know nothing about.’

‘Oh, believe me.’ Bull let his voice drop low. ‘I know _all_ about what Dorian likes.’

With the blinders on, Bull didn’t see the staff coming. It cracked against his jaw and the ground came up to meet him. Bull scrunched his eye shut and spat out the blood that was already covering his tongue.

There was a series of footsteps again. Bull opened his eye and saw the boot that, only a few minutes ago, had been treading on his wind-pipe.

‘I see you got along with him as well as I did.’ Septima said.

‘Kill the filthy creature.’ Halward said. ‘He’s not going to talk.’

There was a sharp “slink” noise as Septima’s knife slipped out of its scabbard.

‘What did I say about you giving me orders?’ She snarled.

Bull felt the ground move under him as a set of footsteps raced towards them.

‘Septima,’ Gasped a slaver. ‘It’s the mage! The mage has sent word. He wants to surrender.’

Septima’s boot swivelled the other direction.

‘What? Surrender?’

‘Yes. Completely, and with only one condition.’

‘What’s the condition?’ Halward took a step into Bull’s line of sight.

The slaver gulped down a breath.

‘He wants to exchange his freedom for the Qunari's.’


	31. Anaan

The dawn was bitterly cold. Dorian kept rubbing his hands and blowing into them. It didn’t help. A cloud of vapour puffed out between his lips with each breath. Shards of frost covered the grass beneath his feet. The clearing, where he’d told the slavers to meet him, was empty.

As the sun began to peek its way over the horizon, Dorian saw the slavers emerge through the trees.

There were at least thirty of them. Had there been that many before, when Dorian was first captured? Must have been more, come to think of it. He could see Varius standing near the front of the crowd, his sword already unsheathed.  Ennius and Dec were off to the side. Their faces radiated a hatred that warmed the cockles of Dorian’s heart.

But there was no Septima.

Dorian scrunched his hands into fists and dropped them to his sides. He would not allow himself to fidget. He would not show any sign of fear. Dorian ignored the rustling in the tree line. Of course some of the slavers would be hidden from sight. He’d known that.

Out of the shadows of the leaves and branches stepped Septima. She looked skeletal in the early morning fog. The sunlight glistened off her shorn, grey head, giving her a terrible halo.

In one hand she held the curved knife Dorian remembered. In her other hand she held a pair reins.

That’s when Dorian felt all his organs plummet.

Septima was leading Bull by those reins.

His hands were cuffed tightly to the small of his back, his feet were linked together by shackles and a long chain. His grey body was covered in deep bruises and scratches and dried patches of blood. Dorian had mentally prepared himself for all that. Krem had warned him about it too.

But the reins and the bridle that Septima had buckled onto Bull’s face made him shake with fury.

‘Hello, pretty mage.’ Septima said. ‘Like my new pet?’

‘Take that off him.’ Dorian’s voice was low and steady, even as he shook. ‘Now.’

‘Oh, you don’t think it suits him?’ Septima asked. She tugged sharply on one side of the reins, pulling Bull’s head down at an awkward angle. ‘I like him like this. Makes him so much more docile. The deathroot and blood lotus help, of course. I’m shocked he can still stand.’

Septima scratched him behind the ear, like he was a horse. ‘I was looking forward to breaking him.’

Dorian gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. It was taking every fibre of his self-control not to throw a fireball at her face this second.

‘But let’s face it. These reins would suit you better.’

Varius took something off his belt and tossed it over to Dorian. It fell on the ground between his feet. Dorian hazarded a glace down at it. It was a pair of shackles and a metal collar. All of them bore runes.

‘Put them on, spellbind.’ Septima said. ‘Then we’ll let the Qunari go.’

Dorian swallowed and licked his lips. ‘I have no proof you’ll let him go once I’ve put these on. Release Bull first, then I’ll surrender.’

‘You’re not in a position to negotiate, mage.’ Septima said. She flipped the blade over in her hand and sliced a long, thin strip down Bull’s bicep. Dorian winced. Bull didn’t make a sound. ‘You want the Qunari to walk out of here in one piece, you’re going to have to compromise.’

Dorian could see Bull’s eye between the blinders staring at him. He was trying to say something, trying to let Dorian know about what Septima had planned. There was a warning in there.

Dorian forced himself to look at Septima. ‘I think you underestimate my value, Septima. I’m worth far more than Bull to the right people. If you harm him any more, I will not come quietly. And you certainly don’t want to hand over damaged goods.’

‘Dorian! Enough.’

A figure stepped out from behind Bull. The moment Dorian saw him, he couldn’t stop himself from stumbling back. He tried to force his mouth to work. It didn’t. He tried a second time, and the word fell out as a rasp.

‘Father?’

Septima turned her head towards Halward and gaped. Then a smile slithered onto her face.

‘Well, well, well. This just got interesting.’

Halward ignored her. All his attention was focused on his son.

‘Dorian, stop. What do you think you’re doing? You’d willingly exchange your life for that of a Qunari savage?’

Dorian couldn’t move. It was like he was locked in a second of time. Every nerve in his body thrummed with terror and shock.

‘Come home, Dorian. Turn yourself over and I’ll bring you home.’

Dorian found himself shaking his head without realising he was doing it. His father moved forward a step, shaking his staff at him.

‘Think of your duty, Dorian! You are the heir to House Pavus. Everything your mother and I have done has been for your sake, and this is how you repay us?’

Dorian felt a tear slip down his cheek. His father’s expression softened.

‘It’s not too late, Dorian. You can still redeem yourself. I believe that. You can still be everything we have hoped for you since your birth. But you need to stand down.’

Dorian dropped his head. His eyes locked on the shackles at his feet.

‘Please, Dorian. Come back home to me.’

Dorian let out a long, thin, desperate sound. Then he leaned down and picked up the shackles and the collar. He clamped the ring around his neck, feeling the weight of it against his Adam’s apple. He clicked the shackles into place around his wrists. They were cool against his skin. He lifted his wrists and tugged at them, showing that they were properly locked into place. Halward let out a shaky sigh. Septima cooed.

‘What a good Daddy’s boy.’ She said. ‘Come here.’

‘Not until you let the Qunari go.’ Dorian said. ‘That’s still part of our agreement.’

‘You know, you were right before.’ Septima said. ‘Why would I let him go when I have you both anyway?’

‘Let the Qunari go, Septima.’ Halward said. Septima stared at him.

‘What did you say to me? Why the fuck--?‘

Halward stalked towards her. He stopped inches away from her gaunt face.

‘Because I am Magister Halward Pavus of the Tevinter Imperial Senate. Because you had the gall to threaten and kidnap a magister’s son. Because I will ruin you and your pathetic group of slave-drivers if you dare to question me again. And because I am the one paying you. That’s why. Release the Qunari.’

Septima leaned back, her eyes wide. Then she smiled, running her tongue across her top teeth.

‘Of course, Magister. As you wish.’

Septima snapped the reins down again and began undoing the clasps on Iron Bull’s bridle and bit. She pulled the straps of leather away from his face. Bull shook his head. Dorian saw him sway on his feet. He turned his groggy eye towards Dorian.

‘You are the luckiest son of a bitch I have ever come across.’ Septima said. Two of the other slavers unlocked his cuffs and shackles. ‘And if I come across you again, I am going to delight in finding new ways to cause you pa--‘

As soon as Bull’s hands were free, his arms snapped forward. He wrapped them around Halward’s throat. His dazed and sluggish exterior was now completely gone. His eye was as sharp and clear as ever.

‘Dorian, run!’ He shouted, his forearm tight against Halward neck. The magister let out a gargled sound and dropped his staff. Septima snarled. She lifted her knife.

‘You filthy, deceiving--'

Bull turned Halward towards her, using him as a human shield.

‘Back up, _Basra Vashedan_ , or I’m going to snap your boss in half. Then who’ll pay you? Dorian, you suck at running! Move!’

Dorian didn’t move. He stood stock-still, looking down at his chained hands.

‘Dorian!’ Bull yelled over his shoulder.

‘Bull, let go of my father.’

Bull’s jaw slackened. Instead of following Dorian’s order, he gripped Halward tighter.

‘Don’t be an idiot, Dorian. This guy is going to try and get inside your head again and mess it up like the fucking demon he is. You can’t go back with--‘

‘This is no longer your problem, Bull.’ Dorian snapped, looking up at him. His eyes were bright and hard. ‘This was my decision. I have negotiated your release. I have paid you back once and for all. Now we’re even. You may go.’

Bull looked at Dorian with mounting horror. Dorian’s expression remained firm.

‘You often asked me to trust you, Bull.’ Dorian said. ‘The question now is: do you trust me to make my own choices?’

A bird squawked in the trees behind Dorian. Bull’s eye flicked up to it. It was a pigeon.

Gradually, Bull loosened his grip on Halward’s neck. He staggered out of Bull’s range and gasped. Bull stepped away from the line of slavers and turned to face Dorian.

‘Is this what you want, Dorian?’ He asked. Bull’s brow was furrowed with lines, his shoulders slumped.

‘What I want,’ Dorian said, ‘is for you to walk into those trees behind me and keep going. Don’t turn around and don’t come back. Understand?’

Bull raised his chin. He nodded.

Dorian watched as Bull looked in his direction, his eye fixed firmly on the trees behind Dorian. He himself kept his eyes locked on his father. Septima pointed to two of the slavers. As soon as Bull was out of sight, they'd be the ones to grab Dorian. As Bull passed him, on his left, Rocky shouted.

‘ _Fire in the hole!_ ’

Bull slammed into Dorian’s side. The two men hit the ground, Bull’s body shielding Dorian’s.

Half the clearing exploded.

Dorian couldn’t see what was happening. His face was full of Qunari pectoral. But he could hear screams and cries and felt a wave of heat slap down onto him. He pushed at Bull with his shackled hands.

‘Get off me, you big oaf, you’re going to ruin everything!’

Bull rolled off him. Dorian looked up. Half of the slavers were face down on the ground. The other half were on fire.

Leaping through the underbrush, the Chargers did what they did best. Charge.

Skinner swept past Septima, kicking her in the face and snapping a key off her belt as she ran. Dalish was close behind, shooting off forks of lighting as she went. She picked up Halward’s staff and tossed it to Skinner.

‘Here! Give this to pretty-boy!’

Skinner caught it and sped towards Bull and Dorian. Ennius jumped and tried to take out her knees. Grim shot him in the eye.

Skinner skidded to her knees, sliding next to Dorian and Bull. She shoved the key into Dorian’s cuffs and undid them with a click.

‘You almost screwed everything up, Chief.’ Skinner said, unlocking the collar around Dorian’s neck. 'Rocky almost blew you up.'

‘Good to see you too, Skinner.’ Bull said. His grin covered half his face.

Krem, Dalish, and Stitches were in the midst of the slavers now. The blast had shocked the survivors, but they were already on their feet, fighting back. They were being overrun. Krem struck Varius in the face with the butt of his war hammer.

‘Dorian! We need Operation Creepy Shit! Now!’

‘What the fuck is Operation Creepy Shit?’ Bull said. Dorian snatched his father’s staff from Skinner and ran towards the slavers. He spun it over his head in and arc and plunged it into the ground.

‘ _This_!’

Vibrant purple light sprang from Dorian’s staff and rolled across the clearing in a wave of smoke. There was a sickening, snapping sound of muscles and tendons, bone and cartilage. The air had that metallic tang that only came from magic.

The dead slavers rose from the ground.

The Chargers stopped fighting. The living slavers stopped fighting.

Ennius’ corpse lifted its sword and shuffled towards its former allies.

Dec shrieked.

Then there was nothing but anarchy.

Some of the slavers tried to fight. But the blast had killed half of them, and the Chargers had slit the throats of any lurking in the bushes. They were hopelessly outnumbered. Others, like Varius, saw the undead coming for them and bolted, abandoning their comrades. Septima was screaming at her cronies, but Dorian couldn’t make out the words. He wasn’t sure if they _were_ words.

Krem seized Dalish by the arm and ran back to Dorian, Skinner, and Bull. Stitches was on their heels. Rocky and Grim raced out of the undergrowth and joined them. They looked back at the carnage behind them in terror and awe.

‘Sweet Merciful Andraste, defend us.’ Stitches said.

‘What Stitches said.’ Dalish panted.

‘You’re not Andrastian.’ Said Rocky. He didn’t tear his eyes away from the swarm of undead overwhelming the terrified slavers.

Dalish waved her hand. ‘Andraste, The Creators, The Forgotten Ones, those weird gods the Avvar worship. Anyone who’s willing to defend us, I’m all for.’

‘Hands up if you’re never going to sleep again?’ Asked Krem. All the Chargers raised their hands.

‘I can’t keep this up forever, you know.’ Dorian grunted. Sweat was running down his forehead. Skinner came as close as she ever did to smiling.

‘Thank the void for small mercies.’

Iron Bull nudged Grim. ‘You see Septima?’

Grim grunted. It had an upward inflection.

‘The mayor of Crazytown.’

Grim grunted. Firm and clear.

‘Take her out.’

Grim whipped out an arrow and lined up his sight. Krem put him arm on Grim’s, lowering the bow.

‘Chief no.’

Bull raised an eyebrow ‘You think we should let her live?’

‘Fuck no. I think we should let her get ripped apart by undead.’ Krem grunted. ‘An arrow’s too quick for her.’

'If that's what you want.' Dorian said. He lifted his staff and pointed it towards the group of slavers.

A raw and primal scream shattered the air. All the Chargers looked towards the sound. A wave of broken, burnt and bloody limbs was grabbing at Septima, pulling her under like a riptide. She thrashed and kicked and sobbed in pure, unadulterated panic as the corpses dragged her down into their throng. The noises she made continued and faded, cut off with a sharp gurgle.

The Chargers looked on in silence.

‘Mage.’ Krem said to Dorian. ‘You’re fucking scary.’

Bull laughed, his whole body rocking with the sound.

‘There you go, Dorian. Now someone has told you that to your face.’

‘Dorian!’

From out of the dying chaos stumbled Halward. His clothes were torn and bloody. His hands were gloved in magic fire, just as his son’s had been the day before. Dorian's mouth fell open at the sight, and the last of his reserves gave out. The dead fell to the earth once more. It sounded like a crowd falling down a flight of stairs.

Halward was running towards them.

‘Dalish!’ Bull shouted, but the elf was already ahead of him. A wall of ice sprang from the ground in front of Halward, blocking his path. From behind it Dorian could still hear his father shouting his name.

‘Dorian! Come back here! Dorian!’

Bull grabbed Dorian’s shoulder and turned him so their eyes met.

‘Dorian?’ He asked. Even without saying, Dorian knew the question.

Dorian swallowed. ‘Let’s go.’

Bull smiled down at him.

‘Chargers! Move out!’

The band of mercenaries sped away into the forest. It was going to be a beautiful morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	32. Taashath

The Chargers didn’t stop running until they reached their campsite again. By the time they got back, everyone was out of breath and flushed.

‘Next time we take on a group of slavers, we do it closer to camp.’ Gasped Dalish.

Stitches nodded. ‘Or just invite them over. Give them tea or something.’

‘Alright,’ Bull said. ‘But they don’t get the good stuff. Just that shitty tea we got from Nevarra. And none of them get any biscuits.’

Krem smiled. ‘Hey Chief?’

‘Yeah?’

 ‘You’re back.’

There was a pause while this information sank into everyone’s minds. Then Bull erupted into laughter as all the Chargers tackled him to the ground. Dorian watched from the side, leaning on his father’s staff, a smile playing on his lips. It was like watching a litter of puppies jump all over their mother. Bull was battered and bruised, and it must have hurt him like hell to have six mercenaries pile on top of him. But Bull was laughing so hard he shook. Tears were streaming from his good eye, and Dorian didn’t know whether they were from joy or relief.

All Dorian’s weariness hit him at once. That spell would have drained him on the best of days, and it certainly wasn’t his best day. His side throbbed. Everything seemed bruised. And worst of all, seeing his father for the first time since he'd fled had felt like running into a wall. Dorian screwed his eyes shut and leant his head against the staff, trying his best to breathe.

‘What’s the matter with pretty boy?’ Dorian heard Skinner say. He opened his eyes to find the Chargers clambering off each other and Bull rising to his feet. Bull moved towards Dorian, his brow furrowed.

‘Dorian, are you al--‘

Dorian’s closed fist slammed down on Bull’s chest. Bull stepped back a bit. Not from the force of the punch, but from the fury radiating from Dorian’s eyes.

‘Am I alright? Is that what you were going to ask me? _Am I alright?!_ No, Iron Bull, I am not fucking alright! How dare you, without giving me the dignity of choice and consent, throw me over a _bloody ravine_. I was forced to watch, helplessly, as a group of slavers beat you down and dragged you off to Maker knows where! You don’t get to make those decisions for other people, Bull! You don’t have that right! Honestly! If I hadn’t stumbled across the Chargers, I would have bled to death in the forest! And where would we be then? What would your grand heroic sacrifice have amounted to? Tell me that!’

All of the Chargers stopped and came closer to watch. Bull tried to catch onto the thread of Dorian’s words.

‘Dorian--‘

‘If I had stayed, I could have helped you! I could have stopped them from taking you! I am a _mage_ , remember! Not some helpless newborn! The veil itself folds to my whims. Did you see me back in that clearing? I commanded legions of the undead--!’

‘You didn’t even have a staff--‘

‘That’s immaterial! And if they _had_ captured us both again, at least we would have been together! We escaped them once, we could do it again. But no. The Mighty Iron Bull simply must fling himself headlong into danger. And why? Because of some fucked-up notion that it’s his duty to protect others and never think about himself. That's why!’

Bull screwed his eye shut, trying to follow. ‘Okay, wait. Yesterday you hated me because you thought I was untrustworthy and a liar, and today you hate me because I’m _too_ loyal and _too_ protective?’

‘Well obviously! The fact you’d put your life on the line, in some moronic attempt to save mine, negates the likelihood of you turning on me for you own ends, now doesn’t it? I'm not a dimwit! But now I don’t have to fret about the possibility of you betraying me. I have to worry that you’re the sort of masochistic idiot who can’t be trusted to have even the most basic survival instincts!’

‘So this is a whole new thing you’re mad at me about?’

‘Yes! The new argument knocks away the old one.’ Dorian clicked his fingers. ‘Keep up, Bull.’

‘How can I? It’s impossible to keep up with your insane ‘Vint logic!’ Bull growled down at Dorian. Dorian didn't step back. ‘Why does everything have to be so complicated with you?’

In the background, Rocky pulled out a pouch of nuts and offered it to the other Chargers without a word. They all either shook their heads or took a handful. None tore their eyes away from Bull and Dorian.

‘Don’t you dare turn this back on me, you infuriating lout! Do you realise I had no idea whether you were alive? I had no idea whether I watched you die back on that cliff-side.’

‘You want to talk about having to watch someone die on a cliff-side? Like the time you almost slit your throat because you thought I was working for your dad?’

The Chargers let out a series of low hisses and oohs. Dorian ignored them.

‘That was completely different! I was trying to die with dignity, rather than live as a prisoner in my own mind. You, on the other hand, were not choosing life or death for your own sake. You practically handed yourself over to the slavers, because you just had to be ever-so-gallant and deliver me from their clutches. I am not a fair maiden from a folktale who must be rescued on a constant basis!’

Krem cleared his throat. ‘Speaking of stupid decisions and rescuing people, is this a bad time to mention that when we first met you, Dorian, you tried to steal my horse so you could charge the slavers' camp and save Bull?’

Bull’s eye darkened.

‘You did _what_?!’

Dorian glared at Krem.

‘I don’t recall asking for your input, Aclassi!’

‘But I gave it anyway.’ Krem grinned. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘What the fuck were you thinking, Dorian?’ Bull bellowed. ‘Do you have a death-wish or something? You father was there! He would have hauled you off the moment you got caught! And didn’t you say you were bleeding to death at that point?’

‘I didn’t have a lot of options, Bull! I was working with what I had.’

‘And what was that? Half a brain?’

‘You are the most infuriating creature in all of Thedas, Bull. Are you aware of that? Or should I pay one of the fine men in your employ to remind you of that daily?’

‘That can’t be true, Dorian. After all, you exist!’

‘How did either of you survive for more than two days by yourselves?’ Stitches asked, his mouth full of nuts.

This interruption broke through Dorian and Bull's fury at each other. Dorian stepped back. Bull blinked.

‘Well… I suppose what’s done is done. As ludicrous as your behaviour was, Bull, I guess we can all just be thankful everything turned out for the best.’

Bull wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. So are we done fighting, now?’

‘For the moment, yes. I believe we've thrashed it out. But I reserve the right to come back to this argument at a later date.’

‘Fine.’

‘Fine!’

Bull grabbed Dorian’s head and pulled him up into a kiss. Dorian stiffened in shock and tried to draw back. Bull’s other arm circled around his waist and lifted him onto the tips of his toes. Bull deepened the kiss and Dorian couldn’t help but respond in kind. He wrapped his arms around Bull's neck, pulling him lower, drinking in his warmth.

The kiss broke when the Chargers started whooping. Bull looked down at Dorian and gave him sheepish grin.

Dorian slapped him. Hard.

Bull was so shocked that he let Dorian pull out of his arms. Dorian growled in disgust, and stalked away into the trees.

‘Oh… Was that not where we were going?’ Bull called after him. Dorian called over his shoulder.

‘No, it very much was not.’

 Bull watched him disappear. He looked back at the Chargers.

‘Do I follow him?’

‘ _Yes!_ ’ All the Chargers said simultaneously.  Krem slammed his hand against own his forehead.

Bull went after Dorian. Behind him, he faintly heard Rocky tell Dalish that she owed him gold. There was the faint "chink" of coins passing hands. Dalish muttered about how she should have known the Chief couldn't keep it in his pants.

Bull found Dorian leaning against a tree, his head in his hands. Bull made as much noise as possible walking up to him. He didn't think Dorian would appreciate any more surprises today.

‘I’m sorry, Dorian. I should have known not to kiss you after that fight. I got carried away in the moment and--’

Dorian leapt forward. He wrapped his arms around Bull’s neck, and clung to him with all his strength. Bull stumbled back a step, but it didn’t take long for him to hug Dorian back. Bull’s broad arm circled Dorian’s waist. His other hand was in Dorian’s hair, pulling Dorian’s head against his chest. They stood there like that for a long time, not saying a word. Birds (that were not pigeons) chirped in the trees. Rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves.

‘Never do that to me again.’ Dorian said, his words slightly muffled by Bull’s skin.

‘Back at you, big guy.’ Bull said, and pressed a kiss into Dorian’s hair. He paused. 'Wait. You mean almost dying, or the kiss?'

Dorian drew back so he could look at Bull's face. 'Almost dying, you bastard.' Bull ducked at little to catch Dorian's eyes.

'So kissing is still on the table?'

Dorian hummed, as if considering.

'I'm not sure. You're going to have to convince me.'

It turned out Bull was very convincing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that chapter title may be a little ironic.


	33. Iter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving from an Australian who has never celebrated that holiday in her life.

The plan was still to make it to Mae in Qarinus. Dorian wrote his friend a letter, with a drastically condensed version of events. Then he sent it away via the heroic carrier pigeon. The Chargers were sad to see the bird fly off to complete its duty. They had become attached to it, each member of the band giving the poor bird a different name. It had caused some heated arguments.

Bull remade his offer to Dorian about joining the Chargers. Dorian felt something bubble up in his stomach, and he didn’t know whether it was excitement or fear. He didn’t want to see the look of disappointment in Bull’s face.

‘I’m… I’m still uncertain, Bull.’ Dorian admitted. ‘I’ve got to think on it.’

‘For how long?’

‘I’ll give you an answer once we reach Mae’s and I've discussed things with her.’ Dorian said. When he looked up at Bull, he didn’t see any of the disappointment he had been anticipating.

‘Take all the time you need.’ Bull said. He put his hand on Dorian’s shoulder, planted a kiss in his hairline, and walked away.

That night, as he fell asleep, Dorian could still feel the warmth of Bull’s lips against his forehead.

…

After a day of rest, the Chargers went to examine the slavers' old camp. There wasn’t much left of it. The slavers that had escaped when Dorian had called upon his macabre platoon had already stripped the place clean. But they had left behind Commander and Honeysuckle. They had probably been too afraid to touch the horses they knew belonged to a necromancer. Dorian was pleased to see his gelding. The rest of the Chargers complained about Bull now having two horses. Why was it fair the Bull had two when everyone else had one?! Bull just shrugged and said ‘Tough shit. I’m the boss, I get what I want.’

…

‘Hey, pretty boy.’ Skinner called over her shoulder. ‘Help me set up this tent.’

Dorian stood and walked over to the elf. She was relatively easy-going, once she decided you were one of the few people she didn’t want to stab.

‘I’ll do my best, but I apologise in advance.’ Dorian said, helping her unroll the canvas. ‘I’ve never been one for camping. I’m afraid my tent-related skills are somewhat lacking.’

Skinner shrugged. ‘You have to learn sometime. The Chargers will stay in a tavern if a town has one, but you’ll mostly end up in a tent.’

Dorian looked at Skinner from under his eyebrows. ‘Skinner, I haven’t decided if I’m going to join the Chargers yet. I said I would consider it once we got to Mae’s. Remember?’

Skinner shrugged again. ‘I know what you said.’

…

The road to Qarinus took three weeks. They were much farther out than either Dorian or Bull had expected. Krem laughed at their lack of understanding of Tevinter geography. During this time, they encountered: bandits, imperial soldiers, a lost temple, wolves, giant spiders, a town in the midst of celebrating Satinalia, a forest fire, a nest of wyverns, a blood mage that tried to force Grim to marry her, a great bear, a giant, and a strange nomadic tribe that seemed to think Bull was some kind of god.

These distractions slowed them down a tad.

…

‘Your wound is coming along far better than I expected.’ Stitches said, applying an ointment to Dorian’s side. The salve smelt terrible and stung for hours afterwards. But Dorian had never seen a wound heal so quickly without magic.

‘I’m going to need some more elfroot soon.’ Stitches went on. ‘It grows everywhere in Ferelden, but you just can’t find it in Tevinter.’

‘Yes. Unfortunately, our climate is too humid for elfroot.’ Dorian said. He waited for Stitches to finish bandaging his side and then rolled down his shirt. Stitches clapped his shoulder.

‘When you come down south with us, you won’t be able to go five feet without treading on some.’

Dorian frowned. ‘Stitches, I still haven’t agreed--‘

The healer waved his hand. ‘Yeah, yeah. We all heard what you said.’

…

The Chargers got the full story of Bull and Dorian’s escape in instalments. Each night Bull would ask what part he’d gotten to the night before, and he would continue on from there. Bull was an excellent storyteller, but he wasn’t a factual one. Dorian had to stop him multiple times to say ‘No. No. That did not happen in any way, shape or form.’ or ‘No I did not sound like that at all, Bull. You’re making me sound like a fool.’ or ‘Bull, I remember distinctly you were NOT naked at the time. Why on the Maker’s green earth would you have been naked?’

Krem listened to most of these stories with his face buried in his hands.

…

‘So, you think you could teach me how to do that lightning cage?' Dalish asked as she rode beside Dorian.

‘Of course. You know the underpinnings of the spell anyway. It’s just a matter of technique.’

Dalish smiled.

‘It’ll be good to learn half of this stuff from someone who has had a formal education. I just picked up what I could as I went along.’

‘Believe me, Dalish. I’ve learnt first-hand, practical experience trumps anything they could teach you in a circle. You could go toe-to-toe with some of Tevinter’s most celebrated duellists. And my coin would be on you.'

They rode beside each other in a comfortable silence for a while.

‘It’s going to be difficult once we get south, you know. They don’t take kindly to apostates down there. Not that I would know anything about that.’ Dalish winked at him.

Dorian shook his head.

‘As I keep telling you all, repeatedly, I have not agreed to go south with you yet. You all must stop talking about it like it is a forgone conclusion.’

Dalish smiled again at him. It was on the cusp of being patronising.

‘You go ahead and keep saying that, Dorian.’

…

Bull had always had a tent to himself. Yet another one of the perks of being in charge of the Chargers.

So it made sense that when Dorian needed a tent, he bunked with Bull. Everyone else was already sharing.

Canvas sheets weren’t known for insulating sound.

On many mornings, when Dorian stumbled out of the tent, he was greeted by the Chargers whistling, or winking, or giving him the thumbs up. It should have been mortifying. It often was. But as Dorian felt the blush start to creep up his neck, he would always feel Bull’s hand on the small of his back.

Dorian still blushed, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

…

‘No, Rocky! Combining magic and explosives is a terrible idea.’

‘You said yourself that it could work!’

‘I said that there are theoretical studies that-- No. Never mind. I take it all back. It can’t work.’

‘C’mon, ‘Vint. You could at least give it a try.’

‘Why don’t you go and nag Dalish to assist you with this insane experiment?’

‘She already said no.’ Rocky said.

‘When?’

‘Six months ago, when I first came up with this.’

‘She’s a wise woman.’

‘But now that we’ve got another… I mean… now that we’ve got a mage on the crew _for the first and only time_ \--‘

‘Rocky! I. Have. Not. Agreed. To. Join. The. Chargers.’

Rocky raised an eyebrow. ‘Yeah. We believe you.’

…

Bull insisted Qunari didn’t dream.

Dorian thought that was a complete lie.

Sometimes, while he was lying next to Bull at night, he could hear his lover grunt or cry out in pain. Dorian would sit up and look at Bull’s face, scrunched tight. He would run his hand soothingly over Bull’s chest, whispering soft, comforting nothings.

‘It’s alright, Bull. You’re safe. Everyone’s safe. I’m here.’

Eventually Bull’s expression would slacken. Dorian would snuggle in closer to him, still rubbing his hands along Bull’s skin.

The conversation Dorian had had with Krem still played on his mind. Dorian knew all too well about the weight of duty and honour. He also knew what it was like to have people demanding you sacrifice a part of yourself. Forcing you to fit a pre-established mould. He doubted Bull could see that parallel. But he could.

He knew talking to Bull about the Qun and Seheron would just make things worse. You couldn’t just cut away at a knot like that without the whole thing falling apart. You had to take the time to untangle it.

And Dorian wanted to take that time.

…

Grim grunted at Dorian.

‘For the last time,’ Dorian snapped. ‘I haven’t decided to join the Chargers yet!’

Grim grunted again. He sounded unconvinced.


	34. Maraas shokra

They were three days outside of Qarinus when they were attacked.

It was a short fight. The bandits outnumbered the Chargers two-to-one, but that was the kind of odds they were used to. Their attackers were either dead or fleeing within minutes.

But it didn’t mean the fight was bloodless.

‘Is he going to be alright?’ Dalish asked, her grip white-knuckled on her “bow”.

Grim grunted and smiled, in spite of the blood pouring down his face. To Dorian, the archer still looked too pale.

‘Grim’s fine.’ Stitches said, holding a rag against the man’s head. ‘It looks far worse than it is. Drink the potion, Grim.’

Grim grunted sullenly and took a sip. He grimaced at the taste.

‘Suck it up, Grim. It’s good for you.’

‘I’m so sorry, Grim.’ Dorian said. ‘I should have gotten that barrier up sooner. He just sprang out of nowhere.’

Krem slapped Dorian over the back of the head. ‘What have you got to be sorry for? If you hadn’t been there, Grim would have got a great sword lodged in his skull.’ Dorian rubbed the back of his head.

‘I only meant--’

‘Save your guilt for when you actually make a stupid mistake, Altus.’ Krem said. ‘Believe me, in this line of work, it’s going to happen sooner or later.’

‘I keep telling you all--‘

‘You haven’t joined the Chargers. We know!’ The Chargers said as a chorus. Dorian snapped his mouth shut.

‘Is someone going to stop the Chief?’ Rocky asked.

The Iron Bull was a few feet farther down the road. He was holding one of their attackers by the neck and shaking him.

‘Do _you_ want to go stop him?’ Asked Skinner, holding a bandage against a long laceration that ran down her arm.

Rocky suddenly found the ground very interesting.

‘Go talk to him, Altus.’ Said Krem. Dorian took a step back.

‘What? Why me?’

All the Chargers gave Dorian an unimpressed look. Dorian sighed.

‘Alright, yes, we all know “why me”.’ Dorian muttered. He stalked off towards Bull, twirling his staff in his hands.

‘You fucking shifty pieces of filth. You think you hit one of my boys and just walk away? I’m going to tear off your legs and watch you crawl--‘

‘Bull, dear, please.’ Dorian said, leaning on his staff. ‘You’ve done your part. The man is suitably cowed. Now why don’t you either kill him or find out why he attacked us, so we can be on our way.’

Bull scowled, looked over to Dorian, and grumbled.

‘Dorian, please don’t undermine me when I’m interrogating a captive.’

Dorian raised his hand and bowed his head. Bull looked back at the man sobbing in his hands.

‘Why did you come after us?’ Bull roared. ‘Who sent you?’

The man couldn’t speak. He reached down with a shaking hand and pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. Bull snatched it, unscrewed the sheet, and looked at what was on it. Dorian caught the change in Bull’s expression. Without a word, Bull grabbed the man’s head and snapped his neck. Dorian moved forward, his eyes on the paper Bull had screwed up in his fist.

‘What is it?’ Dorian asked.

‘It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter now.’

‘Bull!’ Dorian warned. The Iron Bull closed his eye and sighed. He handed over the scrunched-up piece of paper. Dorian ran his eyes over it.

Another wanted poster. Dorian swallowed.

‘They were after me.’

Dorian felt Bull’s hand come to rest on his shoulder. Bull’s other hand came up under his chin and lifted his face.

‘And now they're dead, Dorian. Don’t do that thing you do.’

Dorian stiffened. ‘What thing?’

‘That thing where you overthink everything to within an inch of its life. These were bandits. They were looking for an easy pay-day, and they got more than they bargained for. Nothing else.’

Dorian nodded and dropped his eyes. Bull lifted his chin again.

‘I mean it, Dorian. Don’t do it.’

‘Yes, Bull, dear. I swear to you I will not “overthink” this, even though I don’t have the faintest idea what you mean.’

‘Good.’

Bull pulled away from Dorian, giving his arse a light slap as he went. Dorian watched Bull walk towards his battered and bleeding Chargers. Bull knelt down before Grim and patted his knee. Grim’s face was still soaked in blood.

Dorian started to overthink.

…

Even with the comforting weight of Bull beside him, Dorian couldn’t sleep.

His mind kept throwing images at him.

_Grim’s bleeding head._

_Skinner’s bandaged arm._

_Septima dragging Bull along by those reins._

_His father._

His very much alive father. At least, the last he knew.

Had his father set those bandits after him? Or were they opportunists like Bull had said. It didn’t matter, did it? Halward Pavus was rich and powerful and desperate. He’d already shown he was willing to do anything, and ally with anyone, to get what he wanted. And what he wanted was Dorian.

Dorian knew Halward Pavus would kill anyone who stood in his way. Even Bull and the Chargers.

Who was he kidding? Especially Bull and the Chargers.

New images came to mind. Images of things that had never happened.

_Grim’s body on the ground, a sword jutting out of his skull._

_Dalish and Skinner being dragged off in chains._

_Mae’s blank face as a tranquil._

_Rocky and Stitches trying to stop Krem from bleeding out._

_His father stabbing Bull through the throat._

Dorian sat up and ran his hand over his face. He was sweating so much his clothes were drenched. Bull made a small grumbling, but he didn’t wake up.

Dorian slipped out of their bed-roll and padded over to his pack. He began to rummage for a clean bed-shirt.

_His father stabbing Bull through the throat. Bull’s back littered with arrows. Bull screaming as he burnt alive. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!_

Dorian looked over to the sleeping Bull. He saw Bull's chest rise and fall. Bull was alright. Bull was unharmed.

Dorian clenched his jaw.

Bull was going to stay that way.

Instead of pulling a bed-shirt out of his pack, Dorian pulled out his travelling clothes. In silence and the dark, Dorian dressed and pulled on his boots. He picked up his pack and snatched his staff from the corner of the tent.

He looked back at Bull.

Should he leave a note this time?

No. Too risky. It would waste too much time, and he had to go before he lost the nerve.

Dorian ducked out of the tent and gave a brief glance around camp. No one was around. Dalish had guard duty, but she was on the other side of camp. Dorian turned and headed in the opposite direction. If he was quiet enough to get to Commander without anyone spotting him, he could--

‘Going somewhere, Altus?’

Dorian jumped and spun around, dropping his pack. Krem stood before him, arms folded like a disapproving parent. Dorian put his hand against his own heart.

‘Do you spend all your free time lurking in the dark, so you can jump out and scare your fellow man?’

‘I scared the necromancer?’ Krem smiled and cocked his head. ‘That’s one for the books. You didn’t answer my question.’

Dorian looked down at the pack at his feet. There was no point in denying it.

‘My father is not going to stop looking for me.’ Dorian said. ‘If I stay with Bull and the rest of you, I am going to be a target on your backs. You saw what happened to Grim and Skinner today. It’s better for everyone if I leave.’

‘I see.’ Krem said. Dorian didn’t like his tone.

‘It was not an easy decision, but it’s the right one.’

‘Right.’

‘My father is a powerful man, Krem.’ Dorian insisted. ‘You’ll all be safer without me.’

‘Did you forget we’re all mercenaries?’ Krem said. ‘We don’t do “safe”.’

‘Maybe not. But there’s no need for you to take stupid risks on my account, either.’

Krem rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. ‘Alright, but why sneak off in the middle of the night? Why not just tell Bull you’re not going to join the Chargers and stay with that magister friend of yours?’

‘Because I care about Mae’s safety too. I’m not going to switch from being your burden to being hers.’

Krem shook his head. ‘I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.’

Dorian frowned. ‘Come to what?’

Krem’s shout rang through the night. ‘Oi, Chief! Your Altus is being an idiot again.’

Within seconds Bull had emerged from his tent. He cast a bleary eye over Dorian. Then Krem. Then the pack on the ground. Then back up to Dorian.

‘Nope.’ He said, striding towards the two men. Dorian held up his hands.

‘Bull, please--'

‘Not happening.’

‘My father will come af--‘

‘Don’t care.’

‘You need to think of the Char-oof.’

The air was forced out of Dorian’s lungs as Bull tossed him over his shoulder. Bull ignored his kicking and swearing as he nodded at Krem.

‘Sleep well, Krem puff.’

‘Will do, Chief.’

Bull strolled back to his tent, while Dorian continued to yell.

‘Krem, you bloody _bastard_! Bull, put me down this instant!’

‘Shh!’ Bull said. He flipped open the tent flap and ducked inside, with Dorian still over his shoulder. ‘You're going to wake everyone up.’

Bull dumped Dorian, without ceremony, onto their sleeping roll. Dorian went to sit up. Bull threw his arm over Dorian and dragged him tight against his chest as the mage squirmed. It didn't take much effort for Bull to pin Dorian’s arms to his sides in a massive bear hug. He curled his legs around Dorian's, locking them down. Dorian continued to struggle and writhe against him, until he ran out of energy. He fell back against Bull, the world’s angriest lump.

‘Bull, will you please be reasonable.’ Dorian hissed. ‘There will be consequences for defying my father. Dire consequences. It’s not right that you, and your men, get into trouble on my behalf.’

‘What was it that your friend used to tell you?’ Bull said, pressing a kiss into Dorian's hair. ‘”I like trouble”?’

‘This isn’t the same--'

‘Dorian.’ Bull murmured, his voice heavy with sleep. ‘You can stop running now.’

Dorian didn’t know if it was Bull’s words, or his tone, or how infuriatingly safe he felt in Bull’s arms. All he knew was that something shifted inside of him. Internally, he released something he hadn't known he was holding onto.

He didn’t have to run anymore.

Dorian shuddered, then lay still. He felt like he wanted to cry, but he knew he wasn’t going to. Bull loosened his grip slightly so he could reach up and stroke Dorian’s hair. Dorian found his fingers intertwining with Bull's, without his say-so. His eyes felt heavy. He could feel Bull's chest expand and contract against his skin.

‘You’re safe, Dorian.' Bull whispered. 'No more running.’


	35. Hospes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied a bit. I thought that this chapter was going to be the last, but it turned out slightly longer that I thought. So I've broken it up. I expect it should be finished by next chapter but I've given myself a buffer just in case I am still full of falsehoods and deceit.
> 
> Also all of Mae's best lines in this are actual Mae West quotes. If it makes you laugh and Mae says it, the credit goes to her real life counterpart..

The day they reached the outskirts of Qarinus, Bull pulled Dorian to the side.

‘Dorian, before we meet Mae, should I have a word with the Chargers about being on their best behaviour?’

Dorian looked up at him, puzzled. ‘I’m not sure what you mean, Bull.’

‘Look, we both know the boys can be a little… rough around the edges. I don’t want to offend your friend.’

Dorian squinted at Bull. ‘Offend Mae how?’

‘You know,’ Bull leaned closer. ‘With lewd talk, and all that.’

Laughter erupted out of Dorian, loud and high. It shook his entire body. Dorian leant a hand against Bull’s chest just to stop himself dropping to the ground. He drew in a long breath to try to stop his laughing fit. It didn’t work. He fell into a sea of giggles again. Bull was looking at Dorian like he might be possessed.

Dorian wiped away some of the tears streaming down his face. He managed to get his breathing under control long enough to look Bull in the eye.

‘No. No, Bull. You don’t need to fret on that score. None of the Chargers are going to be too lewd for Mae.’

Dorian hurried away, holding his aching sides. If he saw Bull’s expression, he was going to lose it again.

…

They had arrived at Qarinus at midday. But instead of entering the city during its busiest hours, they decided to wait until dawn the next morning. The last thing the Chargers needed was to be noticed, and if there was one thing the Chargers did, it was get noticed.

Even before sunrise, the streets of Qarinus bustled. All the shops still had their doors closed, but plenty of stalls that were already open and ready for trade. Street performers stood on every corner, carrying out amazing feats of skill and daring. The walls of the city were thick and high, a constant presence towering above everything. But even over the din of the crowds, the horses, and the street music, you could still hear the sea. Seeing Qarinus again, even after only four months away, made Dorian’s heart ache.

Dorian noticed the Chargers had fallen in to some sort of formation. He didn’t know whether they'd discussed without him present, or whether it had just occurred naturally. All he knew was that the rest of the Chargers had formed a barrier around him and Krem. The two runaway ‘Vints were at the centre of their little gang. Dalish and Skinner rode in front of them, with Rocky’s horse in the lead. Stitches and Grim were on either side of them, and Bull took up the rear. Dorian could feel Bull’s presence behind him, like a shield. Dorian looked over his shoulder, only to see Bull looking over his.

‘Did you know about this?’ Dorian whispered to Krem.

‘No. Bloody idiots, overreacting.’

‘You remember the way to your friend’s place, right Dorian?’ Rocky called out from in front.

‘Up this street and to the left.’ Dorian called back. ‘Hopefully she is expecting us.’

…

The manservant who opened the door looked Dorian up and down. He looked behind Dorian, to the Chargers, and sniffed.

‘Magister Tilani was not expecting anyone. Particularly not at the crack of dawn.’

It was early, certainly, but the sun was well over the horizon by now. Dorian forced on a smile.

‘Look, my good man, would you please go and tell your Mistress that her guests have arrived. She’ll understand what that means. We’ll wait in the foyer.’

‘I’m sorry, but it’s against my protocols to just let anyone into Magister Tilani’s home.  Particularly without her prior consent. There have been… unfortunate incidents of late.’

Dorian furrowed his brow. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I am not at liberty to discuss--‘

‘Jovian, is someone at the door?’

Dorian knew that voice.

‘Yes,’ Dorian cut in before the manservant could respond. ‘And that someone would very much like to come through the door, if your manservant would let us in.’

Dorian heard a rush of footsteps. The servant was pushed out of the way and the door opened wide.

Mae stood there, as radiant and as glamorous as Dorian remembered. Her platinum blond hair hung around her round face like a halo, and her eyes were vibrant and full of life. She was draped in darkened samite and royale sea silk that cascaded from her shoulders and clung to her hips. Mae looked like a goddess.

Although he doubted it was god-like behaviour to leap on people and drag them into a hug.

‘Dorian! Thank the Maker! I’ve been so anxious since I received your letter.’ Mae pulled out of the hug and slapped Dorian on the shoulder. ‘A letter I received almost two weeks ago. You said you were going to make “all haste” to Qarinus. Not “take a leisurely stroll” to Qarinus.’

Dorian ran his hand down Mae’s smooth arm. ‘I apologise, Mae. We had a few minor delays. You know how what the roads are like.’

Mae tilted her head to the side and studied Dorian. He knew he must have looked a fright. They were still standing close together. Dorian worried about getting Mae’s lovely clothes dirty. Mae cupped his cheek and smiled.

‘Well, you’re here now. It was all worth it. And didn’t someone wise once say “anything worth doing is worth doing slowly”?’

‘I believe it was you who said that, Mae.’

‘See! I told you it was someone wise. Are you going to introduce me to your friends, Dorian? I'm sure I would love to get to know them.’

Rocky fell into a fit of coughing somewhere behind them. Dorian ignored him.

‘Maevaris, these are the Bull’s Chargers. Chargers this is the exquisite Maevaris Tilani.’

Dorian turned to look at the Chargers had to force himself not to laugh. Grim, Stitches and Rocky all looked like school-boys who had a crush on their tutor. Skinner had her arms crossed, and Dalish was scrutinising Mae with a raised eyebrow. Krem needed to get a hold of himself. It wouldn’t do for him to keep staring at Mae wide-eyed and slack jawed.

Bull just looked at Mae with a sly smile and a bright eye. Dorian knew that expression. That expression screamed “oh, I like this one.”

Mae turned and glared at her manservant, but Dorian knew from experience it was all theatrics.

‘Jovian, why didn’t you tell me there was a detachment of good-looking men on my doorstep?’

Dorian chuckled. ‘I think Dalish and Skinner might take offense at that.’

Mae cast her glance over the two elven women and smiled. ‘And good-looking women too. Delightful. They do say variety’s the spice of life.’

Dalish’s fair skin flushed. Skinner shuffled from foot to foot, looking anywhere but at Mae. Dorian grabbed Bull by the forearm and lead him forward.

Dorian swept his arm upwards, as if presenting a prize. ‘Mae, this is the Iron Bull. The mercenary captain you hired to deliver me from the wilderness.’

Bull held out his hand. ‘Pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am. Dorian’s told me so much about you.’

‘Yes, but you can’t prove any of it.’ Mae said with a wink. She put her hand in Bull’s and he kissed it like a gentleman. The only thing that wasn’t gentlemanly was the way he wagged his eyebrows.

‘Magister Tilani--‘ The manservant said in a disapproving tone.

‘Calm yourself, Jovian. It's all right for a perfect stranger to kiss your hand.’ Mae raked her eyes down Bull’s chest. ‘As long as he's perfect.’

Mae rested her hand on top of Bull’s wrist. ‘I cannot thank you and your crew enough for finding Dorian. I meant it when I said you outdid yourself.’

‘I think Dorian found us more than we found him.’ Krem mumbled. He stopped short when he realised he’d said that out loud. Mae appraised Krem and grinned.

‘Oh? I can tell there’s a story here that I must hear. You’re all going to have to fill me in on the details tonight over dinner. Jovian.’ Mae let go of Bull’s hand and turned to her manservant. ‘Please have the stable master take their horses 'round back. And tell the cooks we’re having an impromptu party.’

‘Another one, ma’am?’ The manservant sounded weary.

‘Of course! But first lead these good people to the guest-rooms so they can freshen up. Also, go fetch my seamstress. See if she can come up with some suitable outfits for my guests to wear on such an occasion.’

‘Ma’am, I’m uncertain if she’ll have enough time.’ Jovian said. ‘Besides,’ the man looked at Iron Bull, ‘some of these gentlemen might be a little outside her bounds of experience.’

‘Oh please. Tacita loves a challenge and the chance to ply her skills on unconventional forms. She’s a woman after my own heart.’ Mae waved her hand. ‘Why are we all still standing on my doorstep? Come inside, please. You all must be exhausted.’

Dorian, Bull, and the Chargers all entered Mae’s estate house. They all looked upwards. Stitches gave a low whistle.

‘This place is enormous,’ he said. ‘You could fit a dragon in here.’

‘Should someone tell Mae she has a hole in her roof?’ Dalish whispered. Bull clapped her on the shoulder.

‘It’s alright. It’s meant to be like that.’

As Jovian led the Chargers down a corridor, Mae grabbed Dorian’s arm.

‘Not you, dear.’ Mae said. ‘You come with me. We have a few things to catch up on.’

Dorian looked over at Bull. Bull smiled and nodded, letting Dorian know he was alright to go. Dorian nodded back and followed Mae.’

‘So that’s the famous Iron Bull.’ Mae said, tasting Bull’s name. ‘Tell me dear, how tall do you think he is?’

‘I haven’t asked.’ Dorian said as Bull’s figure disappeared around a corridor. ‘At a guess, maybe seven feet eight inches.’

Mae licked her lips. ‘Well, let’s forget about the seven feet for now. I want to hear about the eight inches.’


	36. Familiaritas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. We're back. Slight warning for some misgendering in this chapter. If you need to skip it avoid the second italicised section.

‘You don’t think this is a bit much?’ Dorian asked as he studied his profile in the mirror. They were standing in Mae’s private quarters. The room was three times larger than all the Chargers' tents put together. Mae stood beside Dorian, running her fingers through his hair. She seemed to want a very particular type of stylised dishevelment.

‘Dorian, it’s better to be looked-over than overlooked.’ Mae spun Dorian around to face her and straighten his robes. ‘I’m surprised at you Dorian, saying such things. “You don’t think this is a bit much?” Honestly, you’ve been in the wilderness too long.’

Dorian agreed with the last statement. With the help of Mae and three of her attendants, Dorian had been bathed, shaved, dressed, and primped. By the end of it, he almost felt human again. Dorian wondered if the Chargers were getting the same treatment. And whether they enjoyed the experience or found it appalling.

‘This is too kind of you, Mae.’ Dorian said looking at himself in the mirror again. He was still bruised and battered. But three weeks on the road, and Stitches' ministrations, had given Dorian the chance to heal a little. No longer could he be described as “shifty as fuck”. Besides, a little makeup and some fine clothing could cover a multitude of sins. Dorian was always the first person to say he was handsome, but Mae had outdone herself this time.

‘Don’t mention it. You know how I adore the opportunity to play dress-up. I never had dolls as a child, so this is my chance to make up for lost time.’

‘You know I don’t only mean the clothes.’

Dorian turned to face Mae, who was regarding him with curious eyes. They had always been friendly. An interesting discussion over dinner, a letter or two, a quiet joke between acts at the opera. But Dorian had never considered Mae a friend. Part of it was that the only person Dorian had ever truly counted as a friend, in his whole life, was Felix. But mostly, it was because he never thought that Mae considered him in those terms. Had Mae seen Dorian as a close friend for years, and he was just too paranoid or oblivious to see it?

‘Mae, this is going to sound petty and ungrateful, but I need to understand.’ Dorian spoke carefully. ‘Why did you go to such great lengths to save me?’

Mae lifted her chin, considering Dorian for a moment.

‘Do you remember when Thorold died?’ Mae asked.

Dorian dipped his head. ‘Yes. Such a waste. I didn’t know him well, but the few conversations we had were quite enjoyable.’ Dorian laughed. ‘You know, he saved me once, from dying of boredom at one of Lady Pomponia’s soirees. I was on the oust for some scandal, I can’t begin to recall, and he was the only one who spoke to me all night.’

Mae laughed. ‘The way Thorold told it, you were the only one who spoke to him.’

‘Well, we pariahs have to stick together.’ Dorian said. He let his words sit for a while. ’He was a good man, Mae.’

‘More than you’ll ever know.’ Mae said. ‘I remember you came in person, to give your condolences, when he passed.’

 

_‘You’re going home?’ Alexius spluttered ‘For what? A dwarf’s funeral?’_

_‘I don’t know if Thorold’s having a funeral.’ Dorian stacked a pile of books into a trunk. ‘I imagine that the Dwarves have some specific customs surrounding death. Ones that outsiders like you and I are not privy to. I’m going home to pay my respects.’_

_‘You barely even knew him. Besides, there is nothing you can do for the man.’ Alexius rested his hand on the open lid of Dorian’s trunk. ‘Stay here, Dorian, and help me with my research. I know we are on the brink of a breakthrough for Felix, I can feel it.’_

_‘I’ll only be gone for a week, Alexius.’ Dorian said. He didn’t say that Alexius was delusional. He didn’t say that Felix was incurable and everyone, including Felix, knew this. He didn’t say that the means by which they were prolonging Felix’s life were causing him agony. That it would be kinder to let his friend die with dignity._

_That argument would happen later that year. It would be the last conversation Dorian would have with the man._

_‘A week may be crucial!’ Alexius slapped his hand on the trunk. ‘Why focus on the dead when you can help the living?’_

_‘That’s what I’m doing.’ Dorian said. ‘I’m going home for Mae.’_

_‘Dorian, you know it’s lovely to see you home, dear.’_

_‘Why do I feel that there is a “but” at the beginning of the next sentence.’_

_Aquinea crossed her arms. She had the most piercing glare that Dorian had ever experienced. Did he only feel that way because she was his mother, or did she have that effect on everyone?_

_‘_ However, _I would like you to reconsider calling upon Maevaris.’_

_Dorian sat up straighter on his bed._

_‘Mother, visiting Mae is the whole reason I made this trip.’_

_‘The whole reason? Don’t your father and I deserve any of your attention?’_

_Dorian groaned. ‘Mother--‘_

_‘Maevaris has always been noted for her scandalous behaviour. Even back when she was a he.’ Aquinea ignored Dorian’s scowl. ‘But joining herself to a dwarf was just asking for trouble.’_

_‘I see.’ Dorian tried to keep his fury pinned down. ‘So Thorold deserved what happened to him? Mae deserves her suffering right now?’_

_‘Don’t twist my words, Dorian, I said no such thing. But we all knew that this sort of thing was inevitable. A dwarven merchant and a Tevinter magister? That had always been a tragedy in the making. You don’t want your name to be associated with Maevaris’ brand of deviancy. It could have repercussions later on.’_

_Dorian hopped up from his bed._

_‘Well, thank you mother for your kind concern about my good name. I will consider it, on my way to Mae’s estate.’_

_‘Dorian, what you do doesn’t only affect you!’ His mother spat. ‘Think of me and your father. What will people say about us?’_

_‘That you brought up a son who has compassion for others.’ Dorian said as he strode towards the door. ‘I know. How appalling.’_

_‘Mae?’_

_The room was dim and the curtains drawn against the bright sunlight outside. In the darkness, Dorian could see a figure sitting rigid on a settee. It was Mae. Her head was bent down, her hand clasped white-knuckled on her black dress. Mae hardly ever wore black. And in the Tevinter Imperium, that was a statement all its own._

_Mae looked up._

_‘Dorian?’_

_Even in the dim light, Dorian could see the tear-marks against her cheeks. He walked over to her and sat beside her, taking one of those clenched hands in his own._

_‘I’m so sorry, Mae.’_

_They sat there, without a word, for a long time._

 

‘Of course I gave my condolences.’ Dorian said. ‘How could I not?’

Mae drew in a long breath. ‘Do you know you were one of three who did?’

That drew Dorian up short. ‘Three?’

‘Yes. Three. An old friend of mine from the circle. A cousin of Thorold’s, who I think you’d find delightful. And you. And you were the only one who came in person. I knew people found our relationship distasteful. I didn’t realise how many found it abhorrent.’ Mae smiled, but her eyes were wet.

Dorian moved forward and took her hand. ‘Mae, I’m so sorry.’

Mae smiled and blinked too many times. ‘You did the exact same thing back then, too. Hold my hand. Tell me you’re sorry. You just can’t stop yourself showing compassion, can you?’

‘It’s a fault.’ Dorian smiled. ‘I’d make a terrible magister.’ Mae nodded.

‘It’s in times of distress when you discover who your real allies are.’ Mae said. ‘Don’t you think so?’

Dorian squeezed her hand. ‘I do indeed.’

Mae chuckled and batted Dorian’s shoulder. ‘You’re a dreadful man, Dorian Pavus. You’re going to make me ruin the makeup.’

Mae pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed under her eyes. ‘I won’t do for me to turn up to my own party, all blotchy and sniffling.’

‘Mae, you’ll look as radiant as always.’ Dorian said and kissed her cheek. ‘You’re incapable of anything else.’

Mae laughed and pushed Dorian to the side so she could have better access to the mirror.

‘Oh, enough of this maudlin nonsense. We’re going to have to discuss what to do with you, now that you are here.’ She said. ‘I would offer to let you stay for as long as you wanted, but I have a feeling that Qarinus may not be the safest place for you. Hiding from your father may be easier when you’re not his neighbour. I was thinking Minrathous would--‘

‘That’s kind of you, Mae, but…’ Dorian sighed. ‘As it so happens, I’ve made other arrangements.’

Mae put her hands on her hips. ‘Oh?’

‘Yes.’ Dorian swallowed. This was going to sound ludicrous.

‘The Iron Bull has propositioned me.’

‘Oh!’ This “oh” of Mae’s sounded far more delighted. Her mouth slid into a sly smile.

‘For a job, Mae.’ Dorian clarified. ‘For a position in the Chargers. He wants me to come with him when he leaves Tevinter.’

‘Is that so?’ Mae said. ‘So there haven’t been any other… propositions?’

‘No… I mean… Yes. Well… I’m uncertain how you would define…’

Mae groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Dorian, please tell me you’ve bedded the man.’

‘Mae!’ Dorian spluttered. ‘You are completely tactless.’

‘You are completely hopeless, if you haven’t taken advantage of sharing a small tent with him for weeks. He who hesitates is a damned fool, Dorian.’

Dorian ran his hand over his face. ‘Alright. Yes, Mae. I have taken that advantage. Many times. Thoroughly. And I’m hopeful that the arrangement will continue. Satisfied?’

‘Not as satisfied as you, I’d image.’ Mae said. She sashayed over to the bed and sat down, crossing her legs in a slow fluid motion. Dorian was sure he’d have turned into a pile of jelly at the sight, if he were at all inclined towards women.

‘So you're running off for a life of adventure with a burly, ruggedly handsome Qunari.’ Mae said. ‘I always knew the Maker played favourites.’

Dorian hesitated. ‘So you don’t think it’s preposterous? Me throwing everything away to follow a Qunari mercenary south? Turning my back on my homeland and everything I’ve been working towards since birth--’

‘Dorian, please. Take it from the expert on “Throwing everything away”. People will always try to force you to live the way they think you should. You have two choices. You can do what is easy and follow their rules, or you can tell them to go hang themselves.’

Dorian cocked his head. ‘”Hang themselves”?’

‘I am a lady, Dorian.’

‘Of course, forgive me. What you said, it’s all very inspiring. But it does still leave the possibility of everything crashing down around my ears.’

‘You run that risk if you take the safe road too, darling. I never said it would be easy, I only said it would be worth it.’

‘And you’re sure it’ll be worth it?’

‘Thorold was.’

Dorian smiled. ‘So I take it I have your blessing?’

‘Of course.’ Mae smiled back. ‘Unless I can persuade you to share him.’

‘No, my dear Mae. Not even with you.’

Mae laughed, ‘Then go hang yourself.’


	37. Finis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what took this chapter so long? Clothes porn, man. Freaking clothes porn. At least 89% worse to write than regular porn.

Bull was still stunned to see Skinner and Dalish in dresses. He was more stunned to see how much they enjoyed it. Dalish couldn’t stop herself from spinning in circles, watching her long green gown twirl around her. Skinner kept her usual frown plastered to her face. But Bull had seen the way she looked at herself, whenever she passed a reflective surface. She’d pause and run her hand along the soft, sky-blue velvet of her corset. There was a small flicker of something soft in her face, just for a moment, and then it was gone. Bull doubted Skinner had ever had any clothes like this in her life.

But it wasn’t just the women. All the Chargers were looking… well… good. Bull didn’t know how to process that information. Bull would have sworn that this was some sort of embassy function or formal dinner. You know, if he didn't already know they were a band of mercenaries. Sure, the illusion wasn’t perfect. Grim kept stuffing his face with hors d'oeuvres, and feeding bits to the pigeon on his shoulder. Rocky and Stitches thought it was endlessly amusing to put on posh accents and chortle. But if you didn’t look too hard, they all seemed refined. Besides, it’s not like they were going to embarrass themselves. They were the only guests at this party, after all.

‘Do we get to keep the clothes?’ Krem asked, sidling up to Bull. There had been a small, uncomfortable moment earlier on that day. The seamstress was talking to Krem about what he was going to wear. Krem had started to explain things, but the seamstress had just said ‘Oh, like Magister Tilani, but the other way. Shouldn’t be a problem Ser.’ And that had been the end of the discussion.

Krem had ended up wearing a dark maroon waistcoat. It crossed over itself and buttoned down the side. Along with that, he wore a black, high-collared shirt and black pants. The whole ensemble had touches of gold embroidery around the collar and cuffs. Krem’s boots gleamed, polished bright, with shiny buckles. He was holding a glass of wine in one of his gloved hands. Bull didn’t know how he felt about it all. What right did Krem have to look dashing? 

‘I don’t know.’ Bull said. ‘On one hand, the clothes must have cost a lot. But what use would Magister Tilani have for any of these outfits if we gave them back? Can’t see her wearing Rocky’s pants downtown.’

‘Or yours.’ Said Krem.

Bull grumbled.

‘You don’t like your new duds, Chief?’

Bull looked down at his pants. They weren’t even technically pants. They were some long piece of cream-coloured fabric, folded and wound around his legs to _look_ like pants. Bull had worried at first they were going to fall apart. But after wearing them for a while, he knew that wasn’t going to happen. The seamstress had called them Dhoti. The woman had also wanted to make Bull a shirt. Bull had told her repeatedly he did not need a shirt. She had told him repeatedly that he could not go to a formal dinner without a shirt. He had told her repeatedly that no one was going to stop him coming to dinner whether he had a shirt on or not. Krem had told them both to shut up. In the end they had compromised. The seamstress had come up with a long, sleeveless vest that sat open at the front and matched his pants. The whole thing looked great, and the clothes were comfortable, but…

‘Yeah… they’re fine.’ Bull trailed off. ‘I wish she’d made me ones with the pink fabric.’

‘Why didn’t she?’

‘She said it clashed with my skin.’

Krem snorted. ‘It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?’

‘What is?’

‘You’ve been moody all afternoon.’ Krem said. ‘This is about something else besides missing out on a pair of giant pink pants, am I right?’

Bull sighed and scratched his chin.

‘I thought Dorian would have told me by now, if he was staying or not. I kind of assumed he’d come with us, but after seeing all this...’

‘You think he’d stay just because his friend has a house bigger than some villages?’

‘No. But I can see the appeal of indoor plumbing and a roof over your head.’

But it was more than that. Before, on the run, Bull felt like he was protecting Dorian. Mostly because Dorian did need some protecting (necromancy skills notwithstanding). But he wasn’t in danger any longer. Now Dorian was here, surrounded by the finery he had grown up in. This was Dorian's world. Would it be fair to take Dorian away from it all again? Dorian could survive on the road, there was no question of that. He had managed on his own for weeks before he’d crossed paths with Bull. But there was surviving and there was living. What could Bull offer Dorian? And if Bull asked, would Dorian come because he wanted to? Or would he come out of some misguided sense of obligation? The whole “you saved me and now I am in your debt” shtick. Bull didn’t want Dorian to feel like he owed the Chargers. He wanted him to feel like he belonged.

‘Well, here he is.’ Krem nodded at the door. ‘You can ask him yourself if he’s willing to pack it all in for a flushing privy.’

Bull turned and looked at Dorian as he entered the room. Bull felt his stomach drop.

Shit, Dorian was hot.

From the moment Bull saw Dorian, he'd known the man was attractive. He still had one eye, after all. But Dorian had also been battered, chained, and muzzled, and not in a sexy way. Since then, they had been running, or riding, or fighting, non-stop. Looking presentable wasn’t high on the list of things Dorian needed to worry about. Not while fleeing for his life.

The Dorian that had just walked through the doorway looked more than presentable. He looked like royalty.

Dorian was wearing a peacock-blue sherwani that reached just above his knees. It had a high collar that sat just under his jawline. Intricate bronze stitching embroidered the hem. The embroidery flowed down his front, along the seam where the vest joined together, in beautiful loops and spirals. A set of pearl buttons ran down the centre of Dorian’s chest. A diamond shape, with more pearls and sapphires, was stitched over his left breast. Beneath the sherwani was a pair of dark blue pants, and on Dorian’s feet were a pair of pointed slippers. Dark kohl lined Dorian’s eyes and made their sharp grey colour stand out. He’d also put some sort of golden powder on his skin to make him shimmer.

Dorian’s eyes were scanning the room. His expression was one of bewilderment as his gaze passed over the Chargers in their finery. Then they settled on Bull. Dorian smiled. Dorian was hot when he walked through that door, but that smile--

It made Dorian look literally divine.

‘Whoa.’ Bull murmured.

‘You’re so screwed, chief.’ Krem nudged Bull with his elbow.

Dorian walked towards them, Mae following behind. She wore in a light teal dress that came up to her mid-thigh. It bore the same intricate stitching that Dorian’s clothes shared. Must have been the fashion of the moment. Over her shoulders and along her collarbone she wore a matching fitted cloak. It reached all the way down to the floor. She wore leather sandals, like the ones Bull had seen fighters wear in the arenas. Their leather straps wrapped up Mae’s carves, stopping just below her knees.

Normally Bull would have paid more attention to a beautiful woman in a dress like that. But not when Dorian was walking towards him with that smile.

‘Krem. Bull.’ Dorian drew out Bull’s name a little longer. His eyes darted across Bull. ‘Don’t you both look… smart.’

‘A one syllable description.’ Mae said. ‘I think you broke him.’

‘All the Chargers look amazing.’ Dorian said, gesturing around the room. ‘No one would ever believe they’d killed over thirty men this month.’

‘Only thirty?’ Krem said. ‘We must be losing our edge.’

Bull licked his lips. He knew he should be making a comment, but his brain wasn’t functioning. Had Dorian said something just then? He was looking up at him and tilting his head.

‘Bull?’

Oh shit, he had said something to him.

‘Sorry,’ Bull shook his head. ‘I didn’t catch that.’

‘I was complimenting you on your outfit. I never thought I’d see you in anything besides those terrible pants.’

‘Oh, you’ve seen me without those pants heaps of times.’ Bull winked. Dorian shook his head but he was still beaming.

‘Bull.’ He whispered. ‘We have something we need to discuss.’

Bull felt something inside him tighten.

‘Yeah.’ Bull rumbled. ‘I guess we do. The balcony?’

Dorian frowned a little. ‘Alright.’

Bull nodded. He turned and strode outside into the cool night air, taking a wine-glass off a waiter’s tray as he passed.

Dorian looked at Mae and Krem.

‘Is everything alright with Bull?’ He asked. ‘He seemed a little… When I came in, he went all stiff.’

Krem snorted. Dorian glared at him.

‘You know what I mean. You both saw his reaction.’

‘Hard to miss his “reaction”, if that’s what you want to call it.’ Krem said. He realised he was standing next to Mae. Krem cleared his throat. ‘Sorry, Magister Tilani. I didn’t mean to… you know…’

‘Oh but I do know, young man, and I completely agree.’ Mae winked. Krem blushed and took a sip of his wine, while Mae turned to Dorian. ‘You’d better go after him, dear. A hard man is good to find.’

Dorian smiled and left to follow Bull. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of Krem choking.

Bull was leaning on the balcony rail when Dorian emerged into the moonlight. It was full moon. When was the last time Dorian had seen a full moon? Oh yes, that's right. It was when a group of mounted slavers and their pack of hounds had chased him across a river. To think that it had been a month since they had first escaped. There was something almost surreal in that.

‘You seem pensive.’ Dorian said as he moved next to Bull and leant his elbows on the railing. He looked up at Bull with what he hoped was a winning grin. Bull didn’t look in Dorian’s direction. The winning grin fell. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘See that island in the distance?’ Bull said nodding out towards the sea. Dorian looked. All of a sudden there was a bitter taste in his mouth.

‘Seheron.’ He said. Bull nodded.

‘I never thought I’d be this close to that shithole again.’ Bull said. ‘And I didn’t think I wearing these clothes and drinking wine if I ever was.’

Dorian let a slow breath run from his nose. He reached over and laid his hand over one of Bull’s.

‘It's such a short distance, when you think about it. It's strange to think that, for so many years, we were in sight of each other. So to speak. Imagine if I had decided to join the “good fight” on Seheron. Or if the Qunari had found a way to invade Qarinus. Our meeting could have been very different.’

‘Or maybe we wouldn’t have met at all.’ Bull said.

‘The Iron Bull doesn’t believe in fate?’ Dorian asked.

‘Nah. Things just happen. If people want to believe there’s a reason behind it all, I’m not going to stop them. But I think life is what you make it.’

‘So us both being captured by the same slavers? You being the one hired by Mae to find me? Me stumbling across the Chargers at our most desperate hour? All a coincidence?’

‘Yep.’

‘You have no sentimentality, do you, Bull?’

‘Not when it comes to blind luck.’

‘So you don’t believe that, if Septima had never caught us, we would have met.’

‘All that matters is that we did.’ Bull said. He smiled but it wasn’t the wide, jovial smile Dorian had come to know. Dorian tried to steer the conversation to something less melancholy.

‘So,’ Dorian said, taking his weight off the rail. His hand slipped from Bull’s. ‘What’s next for the Chargers?’

‘Getting out of Tevinter as soon as possible.’ Bull said. ‘We’ve caused some damage here. I don’t think we’ll be safe until we cross the border.’

‘So when…’

‘Tomorrow.’ Bull interrupted. ‘Don’t want to put Mae in the crossfire. The longer we stay, the bigger the danger for her.’

‘So soon?’ Dorian’s brow furrowed. ‘But I thought… No. No, you’re completely right, Bull. I’ll let Mae know about our plans after dinner.’

Bull straightened a little. ‘Our?’

‘Sorry, “your plans”. Wouldn’t want to take credit for my employer’s ideas. That would be career suicide. Speaking of, I have been meaning to ask whether I should call you “Chief” like the rest of your crew. I understand that, being the newest of the Chargers, I am at the bottom of the pecking order. I don’t want your men to think I’m getting special treatment, because I’m sleeping with the boss. But the word just doesn’t feel natural--'

‘You’re coming with us?’ Bull asked, standing straight and facing Dorian. That wide jovial grin Dorian had missed moments ago was back, and brighter than ever.

‘Well obviously. You, and the rest of your men, seemed to have decided that for me weeks ago.’

‘You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.’ Bull said, ducking his head to look Dorian in the eye. ‘You don’t owe us anything. If you want to stay here with Mae--‘

Dorian scoffed. ‘You think I would go with you out of some misguided sense of duty? Bull, in the time you have known me, has anyone ever convinced me to do something I did not want to do?’ Dorian put his hands on his hips.

Bull smirked. ‘No. Definitely a no.’

‘Exactly. I want this.’ Dorian took a step into Bull’s space. ‘I want you.’

Bull tilted his head and looked down at Dorian. He had an expression of fondness that a one eyed Qunari mercenary should not have been able to achieve. Dorian swallowed and looked back out towards the sea.

‘Besides, poor Krem can’t babysit you twenty-four hours a day. The man needs to sleep and eat. I’m surprised he hasn’t had a nervous breakdown, trying to manage you single-handed for so long.’

‘I bet Krem will appreciate the sacrifice you’re making for his health.’ Bull said. He reached out and placed a hand on Dorian’s waist.

‘He’d better.’ Dorian said. ‘No one else is able to put up with your nonsense.’

Bull cupped Dorian’s cheek and turned Dorian’s face towards himself.

‘I wouldn’t want anyone else to try.’ Bull said.

Bull leant down and caught Dorian’s lips with this own. Dorian hummed, and arms wrapped around Bull’s neck, pulling him deeper. The wind caught he smell of jasmine and saltwater, and the only sound was the crash of waves in the distance.

‘Err, Chief?’ Came a voice.

Bull and Dorian pulled apart. Dorian looked anywhere but the doorway and wrapped his arms around his waist. Bull, on the other hand, glared at Rocky with all his might.

‘Yes?’ Bull asked. The single word was sharper than glass.

‘Bit of an emergency.’ Rocky mumbled.

‘A “someone is about to die” emergency? Or a “this could have waited two minutes” emergency?’ Dorian felt fortunate that Bull’s eye wasn’t locked on him.

‘There is a group of magisters at Magister Tilani’s front door. They're very angry and are demanding to come inside.’

Bull froze. He looked down at Dorian. The colour had drained from his face at Rocky’s words. Bull grabbed his arm.

‘Come on.’

Bull lead Dorian back inside. Krem and the rest of the Chargers were peeking through a crack in the door.

‘What’s going on?’ Bull whispered. Krem held up his hand to silence Bull. Both he and Dorian strained their ears and listened carefully.

‘--Magister Tilani.’ A man snapped, his voice carrying through the crack in the door. ‘Are you trying to show contempt for the Imperial Senate?’

‘No, I’m doing my best to hide it.’

‘This will not stand, Tilani.’ Said a shrill woman. ‘You realise that what you have done is tantamount to treason. You invited armed foreigners onto Tevinter soil. You allowed them to attack a member of the senate. Did you think your actions would go unnoticed or unpunished?’

‘I am fully aware, as I am sure you are, Magister Junolia, that nothing escapes the notice of the Senate.’

Mae’s voice was calm and even.

‘For instance, imagine if a magister was to hire a group of bandits to terrorise a township. That way it would be simple to persuade the locals to sell their land to the magister at a reduced price. I’m certain that the Senate would be made aware of their misconduct sooner rather than later.'

The woman coughed.

'Or if another magister were selling Senate secrets to Nevarra, I’m sure that wouldn’t go unpunished for long.

'How dare you--'

'Or, let’s pretend yet another magister had paid a blacksmith to sabotage a jouster’s horse. If the jouster was thrown and killed, the magister could marry his wealthy fiancé without fear of reprisals. But we all know the truth would come out, at some point.’

There was silence from the other side of the door.

‘All hypothetical, of course.’ Mae said.

‘You are infuriating.’ Said a third voice. ‘I’ve had enough. If I stay here a moment longer this woman will drive me to a sanatorium.’

‘No I won’t. I’ll call for a carriage to take you.’

There was the sound of commotion. Dorian had heard that sound many times before. Arguing was the background noise of the Magisterium. Mae’s voice called overtop of them.

‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have dinner guests waiting. I’m sure you can see yourselves out of my house.’

The yelling continued as the door opened. The Chargers all moved away, so that Mae could enter and close the door behind her.

‘We have to leave now.’ Bull said.

‘Yes, I’m afraid that would be for the best.’ Mae said wistfully. ‘The cook is going to be furious. I’ll call Jovian. Maybe we’ll be able to pack some of the meal for you to take with you.’

Dorian moved forward and took Mae’s hand.

‘I’m so sorry for bringing this to your doorstep, Mae. I should have known better.’

Mae squinted at Dorian for a moment. Then realisation flooded her face.

‘Oh, Dorian, dear. That little scene had nothing to you with you. I had a small incident not too long ago involving a Fereldan King, a Rivaini pirate, and that cousin of Thorold’s I mentioned before. It caused quite a stir, and a few feathers remain ruffled as a result. You may unburden yourself of all guilt.’

Dorian’s mouth fell open. ‘An incident involving a Fereldan king, a Rivaini pirate, and a dwarf?’

Bull’s laugh rumbled. ‘You’re a trouble magnet, aren’t you, ma’am?’

Mae’s smile was like the glint off a diamond.

‘I lead an eventful life.’

‘A _king_ , a _pirate,_ and a _dwarf_?’ Dorian repeated.

‘Oh hush, Dorian. You’re not the only one meeting new and interesting people. However, if my unwelcome guests were to catch a glimpse of you…’

‘That wouldn’t end well.’ Bull said. His hand on Dorian’s forearm tightened.

‘We’ll go get the horses ready.’ Krem said. Mae shook her head.

‘Far too dangerous. You don’t want to be riding through the streets in plain sight. You’ll have to use Thorold’s secret underground tunnel.’

Dorian raised an eyebrow. ‘Thorold had a _secret underground tunnel_?’

Mae strode across the room and pressed one of the tiles next to the fireplace. The whole structure shook as a series of stone slabs slid away. Behind them was a long, dark corridor. The Chargers moved towards it and crowded around its entrance. It didn’t seem to have an end.

‘Of course Thorold did. What sort of dwarf would my husband have been if he didn’t have a secret underground tunnel? This should take you to the outskirts of Qarinus, just beyond the city wall. Some of my people will meet you there with your horses and gear. If you head north-east you should reach the Arlathan forest by daybreak. Once you’re through that, you’ll be in Antiva.’

‘Mae,’ Dorian said, ‘You shouldn’t--‘

‘If you say anything besides “thank you”, Dorian Pavus, I’m going to slap you over the back of your head.’

Mae moved forward and enveloped him in a huge hug. ‘And you had better send me letters. Lots of letters with lots of details about your grand mercenary adventures.’

‘Wait, did Dorian finally say yes to coming with us?’ Asked Stitches. Dorian nodded.

A cry rang out, mostly consisting of the words ‘Finally!’ and ‘Took you long enough.’

‘We’d better go.’ Krem said. ‘Before those magisters come back. Or before Dorian changes his mind. One or the other. Dalish first so she can light the way. Chief, you’ll have to go last in case you don’t fit.’

The Chargers all said their goodbyes and thank-yous before they disappeared down the tunnel. Dorian kissed Mae’s cheek.

‘Goodbye, Mae. You were wonderful tonight.’

‘I’m always wonderful at night.’ Mae said. She turned to Bull. ‘I’d say “keep him out of mischief”, but we all know that’s not possible. Besides, I may be many things, but I’m not a hypocrite.’

Bull gave Mae a lazy salute. ‘Ma’am.’

Skinner disappeared down the corridor leaving Dorian and Bull the only ones left to follow.

‘You think you’ll fit?’ Asked Dorian.

‘You’d be surprised at the tight spaces I manage to squeeze into.’ Bull said. Dorian slapped his arm.

‘You know.’ Dorian mused. ‘A few days ago you said I wouldn’t have to run anymore.’

Bull frowned. ‘Looks like I lied to you. Disappointed?’

Dorian took Bull’s hand in his. ‘Not a bit.’

Dorian turned back towards the tunnel and lead them into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! Thank you all so much for your comments and your kudos and your general welcoming attitude. You have no idea how much your support has meant. This is longer than anything I've ever written and it was a pleasure to share it with you guys.
> 
> EDIT 9/07/16 ALSO the biggest shout-out to embyrr922 who volunteered to edit this train-wreak after it was finished and make this whole mess readable. She is a humanoid-star maskerading as a regular person. If you are reading this after that date and feel like leaving a comment, please leave one to her, thanking her for her dedication and hard work.
> 
> Also if you are one of the following people, I owe you a fic. That's right. If you have commented on this fic, you get a free one-shot. Just a warning that I don't do non-con or darknest timeline stuff. It hurts me. Also probably not anything to do with scat or watersports. Anything else I think will be fine. You may want to use ctrl f for this. (This is in no specific order).
> 
> -Long_Toe_Marcus_Aurelius  
> -KimpatsuNoHoseki  
> -xsnarksthespot  
> -20thcenturyvole  
> -Dichotomous_Dragon  
> -Silverhuntres  
> -Tabberwok  
> -XieRust  
> -coveredinfeels  
> -Lackadaisical_Lass  
> -hennapixie  
> -Iambic  
> -LaviniaD  
> -Addicted_Chan  
> -BenevolentErrancy  
> -snickerkat  
> -dimircharmer  
> -DarkAngelDisuke  
> -focke_wulf_190  
> -FlitShadowflame  
> -JustJasper  
> -Dekicobee  
> -Disputedleech  
> -ravyn_sinclair  
> -VerborgenImSchatten  
> -LilyDM  
> -nordic_sky  
> -Ransamm  
> -veganstein  
> -SuiCausa  
> -adiosZombie  
> -taispeantas_laethuil  
> -Sciamachy (ShadowedMoonlight)  
> -TheDramaLlama  
> -Sabexbem  
> -sabreslove9  
> -BeneathSilverStars  
> -emeraldfrog3  
> -feikoi  
> -HeroMaggie  
> -aremela  
> -GrapeHead  
> -swinku  
> -Alphabetiful  
> -Elpie (Horribibble)  
> -vegancarbs247  
> -amurderof  
> -msashri  
> -MiladyAdler  
> -Sixylicious  
> -therevoltion  
> -I_am_a_Cephalopod  
> -quiteanerdling  
> -Gobetti  
> -goku518  
> -sablelighter  
> -Northisnotup  
> -tofsla  
> -FullmetalFlameElric  
> -Anninyn  
> -Bellenuit  
> -Starry_Night  
> -Ransamm  
> -Meelah  
> -Viraaja  
> -pinkalpacasso  
> -zephyrine  
> -feikoi  
> -hotrodngold (Krystalicekitsu)  
> -Orangebubble  
> -lrceleste  
> -adenineTransfixion  
> -makarra  
> -ValidInsanity  
> -RAlouette  
> -Heidi  
> -Karshi  
> -grimark  
> -embyrr922  
> -Nublette42win  
> -Callista_Rhian  
> -tinbox  
> -EnoriElfe  
> -Michita  
> -Freakygumdrop  
> -Valentyn  
> -Trishata96  
> -Melime  
> -MarjaAkhmatova  
> -write_and_wrong  
> -GreenFairyArmadillo (rebeccasmask)  
> -quixoticquark  
> -DaydreamingofDragons  
> -Andine  
> -tealeyedbeing  
> -sinuous_curve  
> -Skrab  
> -Cynical_Hypocrite_TotalDevotion7  
> -ostereje36  
> -veLOLciraptor  
> -Řeřicha
> 
> I swear if you're not on that list of commentors and you should be, it's not deliberate. It's because my inbox is 52 pages long.
> 
> The following people get two fics because they have written me gifts  
> -nicholas_de_vilance  
> -Nessa_T 
> 
> And finally Lookawaynothingtoseehere gets two fics as well because they were the first person to comment on this fic 148 days ago!
> 
> So if your name is above (or if it should be) leave a comment below. Please be patient. That's over 104 fics up there (which should be fun).
> 
> So to finish up I just want to again say thank you and I hope 2016 is everything you all deserve. 
> 
> EDIT: 2016 has been a shit-fest and I hope you're all surviving it.
> 
> Also hello and goodbye to everyone who waited to read this until after you saw this was finished. The space-time continuum is weird.


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